Lost At Sea
by Thought Reflex
Summary: A concerned/possibly injured Sheppard, a panicky/injured/possibly lost Rodney, Radek trying to keep Sheppard together, Lorne trying to keep everything else together, and Atlantis trying to fall apart. Treading Water Universe.
1. Whiplash

**Treading Waters Universe**

First story: Treading Water

Second Story: Still Waters

Third Story: Lost at Sea

**Notes:** You may read this story without reading the first one, but I'd recommend reading Treading Water first.

**Rating:** PG 13

**Warnings:** Alternate Universe. Flying fish.

Wordcount: Approx. 50,000 words

**Disclaimer:** After hours and hours of labour feedback is our only profit. Seriously. The universe of Stargate and Stargate Atlantis were created by and belong to MGM (and everyone else who legally owns them) and they are the ones who make the money. I think our profit is better.

**Summary:** A concerned/possibly injured Sheppard, a panicky/injured/possibly lost Rodney, Radek trying to keep Sheppard together, Lorne trying to keep everything else together. **Treading Water Universe**.

**Author's** **Notes**: This labour of love was completed on valentines day! And then we edited it some more! Or more specifically, Laryn edited and I agreed with everything she said…and then she made me write some more, and then she fixed it, and then she made me delete things, and then wrote her own parts and then made me write some more. And now it's done for real. It should probably be known that the first half of this story was created so that we could get to the second half of this story. Labour of love indeed.

We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it.

oooOOOooo

**Lost At Sea**

**Co-Authored with Laryn**

**Chapter 1: Whiplash**

His mind was blurry. It was blurry and heavy and he was stuck floating somewhere between physical awareness and the quiet, sleepy place he was certain he had been not too long ago. It was nicer there, without any of the annoying voices buzzing about his head like junebugs and black crickets, and he didn't think he had been there long enough to justify leaving yet. He wanted to go back, and he was pretty sure that if the insects didn't leave him alone soon he was going to crush them all under his coffee mug.

"Do you think we should wake him?" If he could begin to understand the crickets then they were getting much too close.

"Are you serious? Do you remember what happened to Plaid when he tried that last month?"

"Dr. Plaid tripped and sprained his ankle because he has the nerves of a hyperactive poodle, not because of anything Dr. McKay did."

"McKay bolted out of his seat so fast he almost gave _us_ whiplash. It's not normal. He could accidentally kill one of us with his flailing." No, Rodney thought in irritation, he wouldn't _accidentally_ kill them if they didn't leave his vicinity real soon.

"He's not that bad," someone defended him. Maybe if he kept ignoring them they'd lose interest and wander off.

"I don't see you volunteering to wake him up. Besides, if we don't do it soon he'll probably start drooling and electrocute himself." He didn't understand why they bothered whispering, they were standing so close they were practically kissing his ear.

"You see, that's why you work with the theoretical and I actually _do_ the work. Electrocute himself, are you serious?" There was a moment of heavy silence, and whatever was pressing into his cheek was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"Maybe if we stood at a safe distance and poked him with something?" _Oh, for the love of-_

"If you people don't shut up and leave me alone in the next ten seconds, I'll give you a personal demonstration of all the different methods of electrocution in Atlantis." He grumbled, doing his best to sound menacing without physically moving a muscle, and heard the small group of people clustered around him take a collective step back. It was actually rather satisfying.

"Dr. McKay? We're sorry to wake you sir, but the control room is requesting your presence."

"Tell them to call me in the morning," he grouched. What was his face mashed into? It had to be one of the most uncomfortable pillows he'd ever used.

"Sir," the scientist was a little bolder this time, "It's nearly lunch time."

"What?" That got his attention and he finally opened his eyes and sat up. His face peeled off what was apparently a key board and his eyes focused on the computer screen before him. The screen saver featured an aquarium setting with a jerky image of him being chased by a giant goldfish. He was going to hurt Zelenka. Badly.

Rodney looked over to see three of his people standing in an approximate crescent around him. He looked at his watch and blinked. He must have fallen asleep sometime after he got back from his meeting with the structural engineers. They could put anybody to sleep. That fact didn't stop him from being instantly embarrassed however, and he glared at the three people before him to cover it up. He shook his mouse at the same time to deactivate the screen saver.

"Is there a reason you felt the need to wake me?" He squared his shoulders and sat straighter in the chair, feeling the tightness in his lower back. Dr. Flemming, who was apparently the spokesperson for this little entourage, looked slightly confused.

"Sir, the control room-"

"Yes, I heard you the first time. Why didn't you just send Radek?"

"He's not back from the jumper test flight to the mainland." The man responded and Rodney saw Drs. Hallow and Reichton quietly step away to their workstations, apparently satisfied that their involvement in this conversation was over.

"He's not?" Rodney frowned. He and Sheppard must have decided to visit with Teyla's people when they dropped her off then. Maybe have lunch there. He bet they were enjoying a bowl of gongoran soup right now. He frowned harder and Flemming cleared his throat.

"I'm sure there's nothing wrong, sir," he tried to console him and Rodney blinked at him, not sure if he should be touched or irritated by the kind, nervous words.

"Of course there isn't. And of course nobody else could take a look at these mysterious readings and come up with their own conclusions, hmm?" It was a redundant question, because they wouldn't have called him unless they really needed a bit of help. Or they had better not if they knew what was good for them. Flemming didn't seem to know how to answer him though and Rodney just waved him off as he stood from his seat. He needed coffee, the question was whether he should get it before he dealt with this latest issue, or wait until after he was done? Hell, if it took too long to figure out he could always send a minion to get a cup for him. Or one of Sheppard's goons.

Decision made he headed to the gate room, moving slowly until his legs were working properly again. When he entered the gate room he trudged briskly up the stairs and stopped beside Chuck's station, looking down at the Canadian soldier/technician with a raised eyebrow. Chuck looked up at him and quirked one of his own.

"Everything okay there, Dr. McKay?" He asked sounding amused. Rodney frowned.

"Define okay, because there are a million and one things I could be doing right now and none of them involve you."

"It's just that you have…squares," the man gestured in the general vicinity of his own cheek and Rodney reached a hand up to rub at his face. Damn keyboards.

"Lab accident. I'm fine. Why am I here, exactly?" He crossed his arms and the Nova Scotian lost his little grin, professionalism taking over.

"There's some kind of energy reading coming from the secondary sub-light engines, but no indication of a power drain from the ZPM**." **Rodney frowned at him.

"The sub-light engines? There shouldn't be any power there at all. Pull up the reading for me," he ordered even as Chuck did so. The man then unnecessarily pointed out what they were looking at.

"It's not strong, and usually I would perform a diagnostic before calling you, but it's already increased its power load by roughly four percent in the last ten minutes. Over all it's not much, but-"

"But we don't know where it's coming from," Rodney concluded for him. The sergeant nodded but Rodney was no longer paying any attention to him. This didn't make any sense. None of the propulsion systems were active; there shouldn't be any power flow in those systems whatsoever. And why was it building so quickly? Where was the energy coming from? Rodney began tapping into the city mainframe, the ZPM systems, the primary sub-light engines, the apparently not so dormant secondary sub-light engines, the power distribution system and related feedback grids and began gathering data. Sitting down in the seat that Chuck had already vacated for him, he frowned harder at the readings before him, an uncomfortable twisting sensation taking up residence in his stomach.

This wasn't right. Something about this really wasn't right at all.

oooOOOooo

The moment Atlantis had shown Chuck the sudden presence of an energy spike in the secondary sub-light engines he had just _known_ that something was off about it. It was standard procedure to perform a diagnostic before going up the chain of command for aid, but his gut had told him to disregard normal protocols. If there was one thing he had learned in his years on Atlantis it was that you should never (or at least almost never) ignore your gut instincts. Watching as McKay swivelled on his chair between three computers and Atlantis's own systems had told him that he had been right to trust his instincts.

McKay's movements had been getting progressively more frantic over the last twenty minutes as he tried to trace down the problem. The mere fact that it was taking this long in the first place meant that it was either going to be absolutely nothing, or a lot more complicated than they wanted. Chuck wasn't exactly standing around twiddling his thumbs either. He'd been compiling data from several sources for McKay while keeping him apprised of the power increase and performing his normal city scans and gate duties.

He was just beginning to wish that he'd grabbed breakfast before his shift this morning as it looked like he was going to be working through lunch with McKay, when the doctor suddenly froze. Chuck turned and looked down at him, not having acquired a new chair yet. McKay had gone as pale as the first snow in October.

"Sir?" He asked, startled as the man suddenly shoved back from the seat and abruptly stood. His arms were frozen by his side like he had forgotten how to use them, and his eyes began to move rapidly back and forth.

"Sir?" He asked again, trying to jolt him out of whatever state he'd fallen into.

"Oh no," was the man's quiet, dire response. The three people working around them stilled and looked over. Hell, Chuck was pretty sure the personnel on the deck below had stopped working as well, though he couldn't see them.

"Rodney? Is something wrong?" Doctor Weir suddenly materialised by their sides. The woman had the most impeccable timing of anyone he'd ever known. Chuck glanced at her reflexively, but Rodney ignored her in favour of bending forward to tap furiously at the computer. Then he straightened abruptly again.

"Oh no oh no no no…" he trailed off, his mouth staying open a moment before he snapped it shut and seemed to collect himself. Seeing this Chuck tensed, his entire body suddenly as taut as a bowstring as he watched the scientist carefully. McKay blinked and then looked over at Weir, his eyes wide with panic even though he'd pulled on his game face.

"Elizabeth, we have a problem," he announced, but he was leaning forward again even as he spoke. Chuck watched him access the citywide communications system and hold the expedition leaders comments off by waving a hand in her direction. Her irritation never materialized, taking a backseat to the look of worry, and then McKay's voice blasted through the city at what Chuck assumed to be the maximum volume.

"Attention, Attention! This is McKay. We have a LEVEL ONE emergency. This is not a drill. I repeat we have a LEVEL ONE emergency. This is NOT A DRILL. We are entering full Lockdown Level One C. Shut everything down and secure it. You have fifteen minutes, people. Work fast." He shut off the communications unit.

Chuck stared at him a moment, took a deep breath, and then practically dove into his workstation. Because when McKay said to move in _that_ voice, you damn well moved your ass. He listened to the heavy, rapid thumping of feet as the people around him scrambled away, boots and shoes heavy on the stairs and ground. There was nothing loose in the gateroom that needed to be secured and he was sure that the soldiers on patrol had disappeared even faster than the scientists.

Level one lockdown. Holy mother Mary and Joseph.

Chuck was already sweating as his fingers flew over the controls.

"Completely disconnect the power to the gate, we can't risk it activating because something important breaks," McKay ordered but Chuck was already ahead of him. There were five lockdown stages, each in a direct relationship to the severity of the situation. In lockdown levels one to three the gates connection was automatically severed to the city systems and the gate itself was removed from all external power sources.

"Rodney! What is going on?" Weir demanded as McKay turned to rush out of the control room, intent on following the same path the others had taken only moments before. No doubt he'd be heading to the ZPM room.

"I don't know!" He snapped, throwing his arms out in frustration.

"Rodney, I need you to explain this if I'm going to be of any assistance."

"Elizabeth, something is feeding an exponential amount of power into three of the sub-light propulsion engines. I don't know where it's coming from or, at this point, how to stop it. In approximately," Chuck looked up to see McKay stare wide eyed at his watch, "nineteen minutes the engines are going to overload and, if we're _lucky_, send Atlantis skipping across the ocean like a stone." He took a deep breath to calm himself and Chuck found himself copying the action.

"And if we're not lucky?" She demanded, and Rodney threw his arms out in frustration again but did not elaborate, while Chuck tried not to think of the many possible outcomes.

"Can we evacuate the city?" She asked, her tone grim and Chuck found himself shaking his head along with McKay.

"It's not possible, ma'am," he spoke up without looking away from his task. A level one lockdown was ordered when the city was expected to take sudden, massive damage and that, for whatever reason, an evacuation was impossible. The level C designation meant that all activities be halted, all projects terminated, secured, and/or safely stored. "When power began feeding into the propulsion systems the city automatically put the gate into stand-by. It would take at least fifteen minutes to bypass the systems and that wouldn't leave enough time to evacuate."

"Is there nothing you can do?" Dr. Weir looked back to Dr. McKay. Chuck slid beneath the DHD console and snapped off the panel to the crystals, then reached in to remove the primary control crystal. He could hear the frustration in McKay's voice as he replied.

"There are a tonne of things I need to do, but I _can't_ stop this. There isn't enough time, Elizabeth, and I have to get to the ZPM. Get Sheppard and Zelenka back here, and then lock everything down because this is one miracle I am not going to be able to pull out of my-"

"The stargate is secure, sir!" Chuck barked out, shoving the crystal securely into his breast pocket (he didn't have time to find a more secure location for it) and moving on to his next task. He still had to secure primary and secondary communications.

"Okay!" McKay barked, and was on the move again, already half way down the gateroom stairs. Dr. Weir watched McKay leave in the nearly silent, cavernous gateroom and then took a deep breath before turning back to him.

"Put me through to the mainland, Sergeant," she requested, and Chuck nodded as he made the connections. He could only imagine the chaos the city was experiencing outside of his small domain, and prayed that they would get everything, and everyone, secured in time. "Then I'll need to speak with Major Lorne."

oooOOOooo


	2. Screwed

**Chapter 2: Screwed**

_Screwed! Screwed screwed screwed. Oh we are so very, very screwed!_

Rodney had an impossible number of tasks to accomplish and the only thing that he could focus on as he was running through the halls of Atlantis, was how phenomenally, royally, unbelievably screwed they were! Except that it wasn't unbelievable at all. It should be. It really, really should be because things like this _should not happen! _And yet here he was again, thrust into the jaws of scientific insanity with the lives of everyone just dangling from his fingertips. Which was a phenomenally disturbing image when he focused on it.

He rapidly approached a corner in the hall and reached out to grip the walls edge to help propel him around it. He couldn't believe this was happening! He had checked the systems. Zelenka had checked the systems. Hell, half the scientific division and a good portion of the military contingent had checked these systems and nothing had ever alluded to this….this…just This! And he had no time, they were literally out of time! Without enough time (which, oh look, they had none of) he could only attempt a basic patch and he sincerely doubted his ability to pull it off. There was, almost literally, nothing he could do to stop this!

He had two more halls to get through and then he'd be there. It wouldn't be soon enough; at this point he would have preferred to be at the ZPM yesterday, and he seriously needed to find a personalized transporter. The ancients must have built one at some point! It would have been just the self-indulgent, egotistical, brilliant piece of technology that they would have developed in their spare time for shits and giggles. Except of course, they would have derived their satisfaction by hiding it from him! He'd never find it. And it would have been so useful!

He was fast approaching his last turn, already huffing, when a soldier who was quite possibly the largest man McKay had ever seen, stepped around the corner. The behemoth froze on the spot, stared a moment as Rodney sprinted towards him and then looked back down the corridor McKay was heading for.

"Make a hole! Now!" He hollered, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. If Rodney hadn't been so hell bent on not panicking and trying to save them all he would have probably thrown himself against the wall in compliance. As it was, when he rounded the corner he saw several people mashed up against the walls, some carrying things, others staring wide eyed as he approached. They were blurry as he sprinted past and then he finally stepped into the room that housed the ZPM.

He wheezed, about to cough out a lung, and as he staggered to the control console he mentally cursed Zelenka for choosing now, of all times, to be off playing footsie on the mainland. _He_ should be the one sprinting around the city and securing the ZPM while Rodney focused on keeping them all alive back in the gate room.

He glared around the room quickly, assessing that he was alone. He couldn't disconnect the ZPM. It wouldn't do any good seeing as the power feeding the sub-light engines was coming from a source that was decidedly _not_ his ZPM and, in a few minutes, he was going to need its energy.

"It could never be as simple as pulling the plug," he growled to himself as he went to task. "Couldn't just pluck out the battery, oh no. That would be waaay too easy. That just wouldn't happen. Not for me. No, it's always got to be about the excitement," he tapped fiercely at the controls, "and last second brushes with death! Far be it for me to _cheat_ the ascended higher beings of their entertainment with something as mundane as an easy fix!" Ha! Okay. He stood back and assessed his work. There was no room for mistakes here, because the last thing they needed was for the unexplained power surge to somehow feed back into the ZPM and cause foreseen (at least for him) havoc. He also couldn't risk it being drained or damaged unnecessarily. But it was looking good. He just had a few more adjustments…Ha! He was brilliant.

He needed to get back to the control room.

He hated running.

He looked at his watch, swallowing thickly at the seconds ticking by. He'd given them fifteen minutes to get ready and he'd made sure that after the fifteen minutes they had a good four and a half to get themselves somewhere secure. He'd have to tell them what to expect soon, but he needed to get back to the control room first. That didn't stop him from activating his city wide comm. as he ran, retracing the steps he'd made only moments before.

"Attention. You have ten minutes to complete the Lock Down! I'll update as necessary. This is still not a drill!" He couldn't really hear himself speaking as he ran but he spared a moment to hope that he had been understood. His heavy, panicked breathing might have interfered with clear communications.

There was nobody in the hallway this time as he sprinted by, which meant nobody saw him partially crash into a wall when he didn't round the corner tight enough. It was the first mercy he'd received since this disaster began.

When he entered the gateroom he barely avoided colliding into Elizabeth as she was rushing out. She briefly looked up from the electronic pad she clutched and paused the conversation she was having on her radio.

"I'll be helping in the infirmary," she called over her shoulder as she passed him and then immediately went back to giving orders on her headset. She was gone before Rodney could even think of forming a response. It was probably for the best, since he barely noticed her as he moved up the stairs. Chuck was still sliding around in his chair between his two stations, his fingers quickly hammering over the controls as he worked and his face frozen in one of the most focused looks Rodney had seen on him yet.

Rodney felt chilled, a shiver running up his spine and his shoulders bunched painfully as he moved to a new station. He began pulling up the city schematics. He focused briefly on which engines were powering up, where they were located and then looked to the shape of the city, its weight distribution, its-

"Sheppard to Atlantis," the drawl that filtered through his headset briefly derailed his train of thought. Rodney noticed Chuck tense and look over at him and he waved the man off even as he responded to the Colonel.

"Yes yes, what is it?" He snapped, frowning at the readings. He needed to power up the inactive engines before they went off by themselves, and then maybe he could control the damage a little more. Oh, who was he kidding? They were so screwed.

"Oh, nothing much. Zelenka and I were just discussing your little situation over there and were wondering how its going. You've got a plan I hope?" Sheppard was using his 'I'm completely calm and not worried at all' tone, which Rodney had always believed came across as forced and not at all convincing. Apparently it didn't even work through the radio as he immediately picked up on the tension in the man's words. Or maybe Rodney was just better at ignoring the man's facade than most.

"Plan?" Rodney stabbed at the console, bringing up the engines power readings, and tried not to laugh hysterically.

"Yes, your plan. Elizabeth said that the sub-light engines were going to activate. If those engines are powering up that quickly then they're probably going to overload before they activate, so I can only assume that _you_ will be launching Atlantis across the surface instead of letting the city blow up. What is your plan?" Rodney could picture the man asking this through clenched teeth as he tried to hide his frustration. At least he understood the true scope of the situation: blow up or go on the worst boogie board ride imaginable. The man wasn't as dumb as his hair made him look. To bad that at this point Rodney wasn't actually sure if he was setting his people up to be saved, or to suffer a massive fiery demise.

"My _plan_, Colonel, is to not die a horrible death!"

"McKay! Calm down and tell me." Rodney shook himself out of the impeding panic attack, took a deep breath, and pulled up the controls to the city shield, working quickly as he spoke.

"I'm hoping to use the shield to help cushion our landing," was all he snapped out. He really didn't have time to explain, considering a proper explanation, even the Cole's Notes version, would take longer than the average lunch break. Sheppard fell silent on the other end of the line and Rodney obsessively checked his watch. Crap, they were running out of time.

In fact, now was probably a good time to inform the city of what to expect. "I'm about to give a city wide explanation. Listen in on it," he spit out and, even as John was protesting, he cut the man off and activated the city communications system again.

"Attention everyone. This is McKay. Keep working as I talk people, we don't have time to stop. Power levels in three of the sub-light engines began building not very long ago. It cannot be shut down. There is not enough power to launch the city into the stratosphere, but there is enough to send the city an unknown distance across the waters surface. When this happens it will not be a smooth ride. I will give you adequate warning to get yourselves to safety. When finding a safe location make sure there is something secure to hold onto and that there are no loose objects around that can smash into you." He glanced at his watch. "You have seven minutes to Lockdown." He disconnected and Sheppard called back immediately. He'd roll his eyes at the predictability but he needed them to look at the monitors.

"Is there time to evacuate through the Stargate?" The man barked in his ear.

"Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that? Maybe because the gate locked down automatically when the engines started powering up," he snapped, and glared at the controls before him. The shield was set up to operate on land, not for space flight, and he cringed to think of the complications that was causing. He needed to set it up so that he could manually activate it _after_ activating the engines. Christ what a mess.

"You can do this, Rodney." He checked his watch again and hey, no pressure or anything, but he didn't have time for anymore of Sheppard's pep talk.

"Busy now. McKay out."

"Rodney!"

He ignored Sheppard's protest as he scanned his readings once more and then finally began preparing the shield. If he was going to activate it, it needed to be at the precise moment. Not a moment too early or a moment too late. He couldn't just turn it on now because, _hello_, the massive amount of energy that would erupt from the engines when they activated would either: a) become trapped within the shield as the city launched, causing a blow back and sending waves upon waves of very bad heat rounding up from below them to scorch the city and atmosphere inside what should have been their bubble of safety. Or, b) do exactly what happened in step a), only after everything was scorched the shield would fail from the internal onslaught and Atlantis would probably sink from the resulting damage to the city base.

He looked at his watch. He looked at the shield readouts, his fingers beginning to ache from typing so fast.

He could do this.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard pushed the jumper to its limit and, not for the first time since arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy, wished he could fly just a little bit faster. It wasn't that he was greedy for speed, it was just that no matter how fast he could go in these situations, it was never fast enough. Sitting beside him, looking as grim as ever, Zelenka typed furiously. He was trying to access Atlantis's main computer to get more of an idea of what McKay was planning, since the man himself was being very tight lipped on the other end of the line.

When McKay had announced that he was going to use the shield Zelenka had frozen for a moment, eyes widening, and then gone back to his work. Sheppard wasn't ready to leave it at that though, and he turned his head to look at the man in the seat beside him.

"What?" He asked, and Zelenka looked back.

"What?" He looked honestly confused so Sheppard resisted the urge to snap at him. Now was not the time to let his frustration and impatience get the better of him.

"What's wrong with McKay using the shield to help with the landing?" Zelenka looked at him a moment, like he was surprised that Sheppard had picked up on the fact that he was worried about it. Then he pushed his glasses up his nose and turned back to his work.

"Nothing is wrong, so long as he does it properly." He explained, and then stopped talking. What was it about scientists that they resorted to partial explanations when speaking to non-scientists in dire circumstances? If Rodney had been in the shuttle right now Sheppard doubted he would have been able to get either man to shut up.

"If he does it properly? All he has to do is activate it, which last I checked was basically the push of a button."

"Yes, yes. Theoretically is very good idea. Practically it is a little more difficult." Zelenka announced and then cursed, sitting back from his station in defeat. It had been a weak hope that he'd be able to access the city's mainframe, but they had decided to give it a try anyway. It looked like it wasn't going to pan out.

"Zelenka!" Sheppard snapped. He needed to know what the hell to expect here, and he couldn't get that information from McKay, Weir or Lorne because he didn't want to risk distracting them from their work. Zelenka looked over at him, not looking overly impressed with the tone of the order but easily letting it roll off him. Sheppard was momentarily thankful the man rarely took anything personally.

"Rodney will need to override some safety algorithms and set several new parameters. Then he must activate it at precise moment where it will not trap sub-light propulsion blasts within, but be fully encompassing city before it hits water." Zelenka blinked slowly. "Is not very hard, McKay can probably do in his sleep." He announced and Sheppard frowned, turning back to look out the jumpers window. He was getting the distinct impression that Zelenka was lying through his teeth about the easy part of that very vague explanation.

"In his sleep," Sheppard heard himself echoing Zelenka's words and quickly snapped his jaw shut when the man looked over at him. Atlantis was looming larger and larger with every passing minute, but they still might not make it to her in time. They definitely wouldn't be in time to provide any useful aid and the tension in his shoulders was already driving a low level headache to his forehead.

They were silent for a few moments before McKay's loud and very demanding voice carried over their headsets and to the entire city.

"Attention Attention, this is McKay," he announced, as though people wouldn't figure that out the instant they heard that voice. "Cease your efforts at lockdown and secure yourselves. You have-" he paused a moment, "three and a half minutes. Secure yourselves." There was another brief pause. "This is not a drill." Rodney sounded distracted as he tagged that last line in there. It was an after thought, as though he was afraid people might think he was playing an elaborate joke on them and not get themselves to safety in time. Sheppard knew a lot of people had issues with McKay's personality at times, some even had issues with him being in charge, but he hadn't seen anyone ever question him when he used that tone of voice.

Sheppard took a few steady, deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He had never felt more useless. He _hated_ feeling useless. Beside him Zelenka shifted, one hand resting on the chairs arm, his knuckles white.

"Sheppard! What's your ETA?" Rodney suddenly demanded, and a display immediately popped up on Sheppard's left.

"Three minutes," he announced. Huh, they'd been making better time than he'd thought.

"Pull back, Colonel," Rodney ordered and Sheppard instantly moved to argue, but it seemed McKay had expected this and was already continuing his orders before he got a chance to fully open his mouth. "If you get too close you could be in danger of the engines, or caught in the city's wake. If you become trapped in the shield while we're landing I can't predict whether or not the jumper will be able to maintain the speed of the city." He explained harshly.

"We will be like bug on windshield," Zelenka not so helpfully nodded his head in agreement. Sheppard glared at him. "Sort of," he amended, as if it made a difference. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"Did you hear me, Sheppard! John?"

"I heard you, Rodney. We'll maintain a safe distance." His throat was suddenly feeling all thick and clogged up, his words having a bit of difficulty getting out.

"Good. That's very good," Rodney muttered, more to himself but the line was still open. His breathing sounded loud in Sheppard's ear and he could hear furious typing going on in the background. Wait, typing?

"McKay! Are you secure?"

"What?" There was another brief pause before Rodney's answer rushed out, too quickly. "Of course! What kind of idiot do you take me for? Now leave me alone, I need to concentrate," he snapped and the line disconnected. Sheppard looked at Zelenka, who was looking grimmer by the minute.

"Somebody must initiate the engines, monitor status, and then activate shield," he informed Sheppard softly. John's jaw began to ache as he clenched his teeth.

They watched the city from a safe distance, which was just at the edge of the hot zone Zelenka had quickly mapped out for Sheppard.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" Rodney suddenly shouted in his ear, making Sheppard cringe and Zelenka visibly jump beside him and they both sucked in loud breaths.

Sheppard stared hard, but at first nothing appeared to be happening. His heart was hammering in his chest and he began to entertain the idea that maybe (not for the first time) Rodney might have been wrong. Then the water around the city began shifting and bubbling. Little ripples on the ocean's surface that splashed the city walls like cresting waves. It started small enough that they could just see it even from this distance. Then the churning drastically increased, large waves began rippling out, steam began to rise like a fine mist around its base.

Sheppard breathed shallowly as he watched, his hands gripping the jumper's controls and forcing them to remain where they were. It was only moments after that that the city itself started to shift, tilting one way and then the other, before it began to rise shakily from the ocean. Sheppard was reminded of an old man who had fallen, and was weakly trying to push himself to his feet without the aid of a cane. It reminded him of what it must be like to learn how to walk again. His breath stuttered in his throat.

McKay said only three sub-light engines would activate. Apparently two of them were near the designated northern end of the city, as it rose from the water first. The southern end of the city dipped low, dragging for a moment and Sheppard saw the water reaching out for it like a massive hand, preparing to grab it and suck it back below the surface until the entire south end was drowned or snapped off. But then, with an apparent burst of energy, the southern end lifted and took the lead as Atlantis was suddenly shooting off. Airborne. The northern engines propelled its direction. White hot light flared in brilliant, brief bursts from beneath its metal and though the city was not actually touching the water's surface anymore, it was leaving a massive, frothy wake. It was probably visible from space.

It was incredible. It was horrifying. John stared mutely watching the city diminish in size as it flew away.

"Dobrý bože!" Zelenka whispered beside him, breaking the stillness in the jumper. Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, loosened his grip on the jumper's controls, and then pushed the jumper hard, needing to catch up to their city and people.

It took about thirty-seven seconds, before the almost blinding light coming from beneath the city cut out more abruptly than it had appeared. Then the entire mass of Atlantis started dropping like a stone. Apparently it took only six seconds for a city as magnificent as Atlantis to fall. Its descent was ungraceful as it crashed back into the water. But Sheppard had seen the blue-white glimmer of the shield as it sparkled to life immediately after the engines cut out. It only took three point eight seconds for the shield to fully activate.

The wave created when the city collided with the surface was massive. Tsunami proportions if Sheppard were to guess off hand and, at the back of his mind, he was relieved to note that it was heading away from the Athosian settlement on the mainland. Then the city, denying any possibility of a soft landing, skidded off the surface. It nosed up, crushing the wave it birthed only moments before by smashing back down a second time. The entire structure tilted, achieving a nearly impossible angle as it forcefully shoved massive amounts of water out of the way, before the rest of the city's belly followed suit.

John watched in horrified fascination, as it seemed to bob a moment like a goddamn fishing lure, before the mass distributed itself appropriately and just, sort of, sat down where it was. The shield collapsed. The water that had been trickling down its sides fell like rain, glinting in the sunlight. The ocean rushed in and surrounded the city, supporting it as it regained its' equilibrium until it was floating peacefully once more.

They watched.

Large waves were spreading away from the city, massive ripples that wouldn't die out for who knew how many miles. Sheppard stared at it. From this distance it looked like nothing had happened. The city looked like it did on any average day when he was returning from a flight to the main land, still, restful. But this stillness seemed unnatural.

Sheppard was aware of exactly how many people were inside its walls when it took off.

He slammed his hand on the Jumper's communication system.

"This is Sheppard, come in Atlantis!" He demanded, noting and then ignoring the steely tone of his voice as he kept the Jumper on a direct approach to his people. His friends. He waited five seconds for a response, giving them time.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Respond!" He didn't wait the full five seconds for a response to his second hail.

"McKay? What's your status!" He demanded, icy fingers of panic running up his spine and he ruthlessly shoved them back down.

"Rodney!"

oooOOOooo

tbc.

Czech translation: dobrý bože: Good God.


	3. A Mutt's Point of View

**Chapter 3: A Mutt's Point of View**

oooOOOooo

The moment McKay's voice erupted on the city speakers, before he had even really said anything of importance, Lorne had known that his good morning had just been shot to hell. _Attention, Attention_ had carried throughout the city and, like a well-trained mutt, Lorne had frozen in his tracks and automatically cocked his head, waiting for instruction. There were three other people in the corridor with him, one of them a seasoned British Captain, and each one of them had done the exact same thing. McKay didn't use this tone of voice often, the one that would make a General stand to attention, and Lorne was pretty sure the scientist had no idea the effect it had on people. Perhaps that was why it was so effective now.

Then Rodney had gone and declared a Level One Emergency Lockdown and Lorne had a completely composed moment of _holy fuck, I'm in charge!_ before tearing off down to the armoury. Instinct had him reaching for his radio to demand an explanation to this crisis, but he aborted the move at the last moment. McKay would tell him what he needed to know when it was necessary and the last thing Lorne needed to do was distract the man from his work. At least for the moment. He opened a direct line to all military personnel instead.

"This is Major Lorne and I am the ranking officer on Atlantis," he barked sharply as he rushed along, "I need rosters and status updates stat!"

By the time he stepped through the armoury doors he'd already received several reports from teams snapped into his ear. He listened carefully as he moved, making a beeline through the large storage space to the back room; the one where they kept the nuclear warheads and other, slightly more dangerous weapons. He saw that Lieutenant Lee and a few other soldiers had already thrown heavy nets over many of the crates of ammunition and were securing them firmly together and to the walls.

"Major Lorne, this is Beckett."

"Go ahead," Lorne answered, as he continued to check the ropes. The warheads appeared to be firmly strapped down and secured, but he had to make sure. He didn't need an 'obliterated the city due to laziness' notation in his records, especially not if they survived whatever the hell was going to happen in fifteen minutes.

"My people are all accounted for and I have no critical patients at this time," Beckett reported and Lorne nodded, grateful for at least that small mercy. "Though we are a tad short-staffed at the moment and have a load of loose equipment. I could use any extra hands you could spare."

"I'll see what I can do, Doc," Lorne said and quickly switched channels. "Cadman, what's your status?" He didn't want to breathe down her neck, but time was of the essence and she was responsible for the current status and accountability of military personnel.

"I need two minutes, Major," Cadman reported.

"Acknowledged. Dr. Weir, how are things in the control room?" He asked. A short distance away Lieutenant Lee was tightening the ratchet straps on the last set of boxes now, and Lorne waved a hand to get his attention as he stopped by the armoury door. Lee nodded sharply as he completed his task, and then began heading towards him, double-checking the straps he passed.

"Sergeant Campbell and I have almost finished securing the room," she answered. "The stargate has been disconnected, and the control crystal secured." Lorne nodded to himself as he mentally checked the control room off his list.

"Acknowledged. Dr. Beckett has requested assistance in the infirmary, Ma'am. I'd like you to head there."

"Rodney left a few moments ago to secure the ZPM. I'll head to the infirmary once he returns, Major."

He just managed to get out a "thank you Ma'am," before McKay's voice erupted from the overhead speakers and his ear piece, sounding short of breath as he announced the ten minute mark.

"Cadman, I need that status report!"

"Yes, Major." He held a finger out to Lieutenant Lee while he listened to her report. When she reported that three of the five naqueda reactors were secured, he breathed a sigh of relief and sent Lee to the infirmary with strict orders to make sure both Weir and Beckett were secure when the time came. Lorne gave the armoury one more quick check before securing the door and heading to the infirmary himself. Strictly speaking, the reactors should have been covered by the science teams, but that had changed after the first few practice drills. Nothing had actually exploded during those drills, unless you counted Dr. McKay, but it had shown that the science teams had more than enough to handle securing their experiments and an extra hand from the military would be necessary.

Speaking of the scientists, he should have heard from them by now. Then with a sinking realization Lorne remembered that Zelenka had accompanied Sheppard and Ronon to the mainland that morning and wasn't around to act as McKay's back-up. There was nothing to be done about it now, but it could explain the delay from the science department.

"Dr. Marlow, how are you doing down there?" There was a crash of equipment from the other end of the line just as Dr. Marlow answered. The normally unflappable scientist sounded harried, and another crash of equipment muddled his response. Lorne frowned. "Can you repeat that, Dr. Marlow?"

"Sorry, Major. We lost one of our experimental setups, but should have everything secured in a few minutes." Lorne stopped in the middle of the hall and contemplated a change in direction. Decision made he twisted around to head to the labs. With Zelenka off world, Kusanagi, Marlow, and Sauder were in charge of the scientists and though Lorne had no doubt that they would hold up their end, he was worried that whatever timeframe they were working on wouldn't be enough. He needed to personally determine that things were secure. Then Marlow dropped another bombshell.

"We've been unable to contact or find Dr's. Ramirez and Eglington."

Damn it.

"Understood." He acknowledged briskly and severed their connection. He flipped his headset to the citywide frequency, but halted the action when McKay's voice sounded again. He slowed his dash despite McKay's directive to continue working. The explanation of their crisis left him stunned, but he didn't have to be a rocket scientist to picture Atlantis skimming across the water's surface. When McKay announced they only had seven minutes remaining he picked up his pace once again.

"Dr. Ramirez, Dr. Eglington, report." He hit the transporter running, almost crashing into its back wall and control display as he stopped, and selected his location. When he emerged and rounded the corner near the labs, he barely managed to avoid crashing into Dr. Kusanagi and the three scientists running behind her as she shouted out orders. Entering the main lab he saw several others were powering down equipment and stacking laptop after laptop into a padded drawer built right into the city walls. Two of his soldiers were throwing ropes around some large portable panels to secure them to the walls. He saw Dr. Marlow by the largest console in the room and moved over to him while activating the city wide communications once again. "Dr. Ramirez, Dr. Eglington, report!"

He was in the process of asking Dr. Marlow where the scientists had last been seen, when Ronon's completely unexpected voice came over his headset. "I think they're on the west pier. Doubt they have their radios with them," he gruffly informed him and Lorne couldn't help a sigh and looked at Marlow.

"They may be on the west pier," he passed the information on and the Doctor's eyes widened in alarm.

"What the hell are they doing out there? The speaker systems aren't operational on that pier! There was never any reason to repair them until we had time…" He trailed off and blinked before going frantically back to his work. Clearly this was something Lorne was going to have to deal with.

"Great. Just great," Lorne muttered. He'd have to send someone to get them, but the chances of anyone getting to that location in time to warn the stray scientists was practically impossible, even sending a jumper would take too long with the time frame they had left. Wait a second. "I thought you went to the mainland," Lorne announced sharply and then demanded to know the Satedan's status.

"I'm almost to the West Pier," Ronon grunted.

"Keep me updated," Lorne ordered but Ronon didn't bother to respond. If the scientists were still out there, Ronon would get them to safety, but even he wouldn't be able to protect them from McKay's wrath once this was over.

"Sir, all military personnel accounted for. Several teams have completed their tasks and are available for redeployment." Cadman announced sharply in his ear.

"Copy that, stand by," he looked to Marlow. "Where do you need an extra hand?"

"Labs four and seven. Most primary rooms are secure, but Dr. Sauder could use a hand."

Lorne told Cadman where to send them and she acknowledged the order. Lorne stood back and took a moment to simply breathe. If he had had time to really take everything in he would have been damn proud of everyone in the city. The military and scientists were working with an efficiency normally found only after years of close acquaintance and it sometimes threatened to knock Lorne off his feet at how well the people around him could work together. Best of the best, and right now it really showed.

Organized chaos was as close as he could come to describing the next five minutes.

When McKay gave the final order for everyone to stop what they were doing and secure themselves safely, Lorne had looked grimly at the people he was with and nodded. They rushed off to find a place to hunker down and he felt like his stomach was in his throat as he made sure everyone in his vicinity was as secure as they could be.

"Lorne to Dr. Weir," he called into his radio as he ran down the hall, poking his head into a few labs to see various people wrapped tightly around the legs of barren desks that were bolted to the floor, while other people were using the spare ropes to tie themselves in place.

"Go ahead, Major," She responded immediately, her tone declaring the urgency of the situation.

"Are you and Beckett secure?" He ran past a few more labs and the kitchen but at that point he didn't have time to check them anymore. He hoped people weren't stupid enough to hide in the kitchen.

"We are, Major," she sounded slightly amused despite the situation and Lorne figured her tone had something to do with the soldiers Lorne had assigned to their safety. Lorne's men knew exactly how important it was to keep them safe. They'd probably had Weir and Beckett locked down five minutes before McKay demanded it.

"Lorne to McKay," he waited a moment for an answer, which didn't come fast enough. "Lorne to the Control room!" He barked.

"Campbell here, sir," was the instant reply and Lorne unclenched his fist.

"Chuck, are you and McKay secure?"

"I am, Major, but Dr. McKay is-"

"Dr. McKay is right here, thank you," McKay interrupted hotly, finally gracing Lorne with his voice. Lorne heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like _tattletale_ under his breath and Lorne knew, without a doubt, that the man wasn't secure.

"Damn it, McKay! Get to a safe location!"

"The city won't fly itself, Major," the man snapped. Then the sound of McKay's typing cut off abruptly as he disconnected, and for an insane moment Lorne wondered what that meant. He'd been too focused on his own part of the emergency to wonder about McKay's actions, and it suddenly occurred to him that with Sheppard off-station there was no one protecting McKay's back. _Damn it!_ He should have assigned two men to watch McKay when he'd split the command staff and ordered Weir to the infirmary. He picked up his pace, his steel-toed boots pounding heavily on the ground, echoing loudly in the empty corridor.

"Major, what's your status?" Weir suddenly demanded in his ear and he cringed as he ran.

"I'm on my way to the control room."

"That's a negative Major, you need to secure yourself as well." She demanded and he completely agreed, and he would, just as soon as he made sure McKay was safe. He might be the second ranking military officer in the city and currently in charge, but Sheppard would have his balls in a jar if McKay got hurt and Lorne was rather attached to that bit of his anatomy.

His plan to get to the control room and his response to Weir, however, was abruptly halted when Corporal DeBoer suddenly materialized in front of him. Lorne crashed into him and sort of bounced right off his chest. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was no longer running when DeBoer dragged Lorne bodily into the supply closet he had magically appeared from. He'd hit brick walls that were softer; when Henning DeBoer wanted you to go somewhere, you went. Before he could suck in a breath and order the soldier to back off the man had forcefully pushed him to the ground, and then sat down beside him, effectively blocking the only route to the now closed door. Lorne pressed his back into the wall and glared.

"Good of you to join us, sir." He looked to the soldier pressed on his other side and was greeted with Cadman's pearly whites. Just beyond her he could see two more soldiers crammed in with their backs at one wall and feet braced against the other. They were like freaking sardines they were packed so tight. Hehe -

"I've got to get to McKay," he announced and moved to stand, making sure he used his command voice. He barely even budged as both DeBoer and Cadman grabbed his shoulders and forced him to remain seated, Cadman viciously digging her fingers into a pressure point. DeBoer just glared.

"Sorry, sir. McKay's orders were to secure ourselves." The big man looked far from sorry.

"Yep," Cadman agreed, giving his shoulder a good squeeze before releasing her grip. "And right now McKay's in charge, sir."

"Major? Are you secure?" Dr. Weir demanded into his ear, and Lorne let his head fall forward in defeat.

"Yes, Ma'am," he reassured her. He couldn't stretch his legs out, the wall being too close. DeBoer's massive legs were practically growing out of his chest they were tucked in there so tight. Weir didn't get a chance to answer though as McKay's voice cut through every communication system in the city.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" he yelled into their ears and through all the speakers creating a brief echo. Lorne felt the soldiers beside him tense and followed suit, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. Then holding it a little longer. And a little bit longer.

"This is it?" Cadman asked beside him, still locking herself into place as much as she could and someone huffed a laugh. Then the floor and walls began to vibrate.

"You had to say it, didn't you," DeBoer grunted, flashing a sardonic smile her way and Cadman shrugged, her shoulder digging into Lorne's bicep.

"Well, it was a bit anti-climatic there for a moment. I'd hate to think we did all that work for nothing," she grunted back. Then they all shut up and concentrated on bracing themselves as much as possible. The vibrations increased in strength, rattling Lorne's teeth and blurring his vision to the point where it was easier to close his eyes. For a moment it felt like the city was tilted at an odd angle before it straightened itself out and then the overbearing vibrations calmed, and became nothing more than a light humming in the air.

Something was still wrong though. There was no way that was the extent of it. Lorne's spidey sense was still tingling, a feeling of dread that stuck heavily to his rib cage. Atlantis didn't feel right. His ATA gene wasn't nearly as efficient as Sheppard's, but he still had a slight connection with the city that he assumed all the gene jockey's had, and right now it was telling him something was still very wrong.

"Was that it?" Murphy asked, and Lorne shook his head negatively.

"No. It couldn't have been. McKay would have cleared us by now," he thought out loud. "I think we're airborne."

"Well, shit." Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. They waited a few more tense moments, the seconds ticking past, and then the vibrations started up again. They built a lot quicker this time and Lorne was reminded of an engine on the verge of stalling out. The crescendo of sound and vibrations rattled his spine and he could feel Cadman and DeBoer shaking beside him, the combined pressure of their shoulders almost crushing him. And then it just stopped. Everything stopped. There were no vibrations, not even the hum of the engines. For a moment silence reigned.

Then his stomach lurched, trying to leap into his throat as his entire body became suddenly weightless, hovering an inch off the floor.

"Hold on!" He yelled, as if they hadn't figured that out for themselves yet.

"No shit, sir!" Cadman yelled right back. Figures she'd have to get the last word.

When they hit, his entire body was thrown violently forward and for a long, shocking moment, he forgot that he still had control of all his muscles before he used his legs to shove himself back into place against the wall. Just in time for them to be thrown back without mercy. His back slammed into the hard surface; the breath shoved out of his lungs in a rush. He heard someone's head connect solidly with the wall.

Atlantis groaned around him, shuddered, and then his stomach was flying into his throat again and Jesus this was bad. This was going to be very, very bad. He managed to suck in a lungful of air just as he began to see stars.

When the second bone-jarring lurch came it was worse than the first. From somewhere in the city he heard a series of heavy crashing and hoped to god no one had been near whatever it was that could make that noise.

They were thrown forward again, his body twisting slightly, knocking him from his wedged position between DeBoer and Cadman. Cadman swore as she and Murphy were dislodged from their tightly packed positions. They crashed into the opposite wall, Cadman's legs and elbow smashing into Lorne. With the extra support their bodies provided suddenly ripped away Lorne was left flailing in the air, trying to find something to brace against. It was a wasted effort as he toppled onto Cadman, hearing her grunt as he landed heavily.

Everything coalesced into one giant blur of limbs and sharp pains. A steel tipped boot connected with his head, stars burst across his vision and his funny bone smashed into the wall, the sudden, blinding pain stealing his breath away. His knees landed in something soft. Someone's shoulder was driven into his back, knocking him further into whoever was beneath him. By the time the city settled and Lorne could finally tell which way was up again, he was lodged at the bottom of a pile up. One of his arms was pinned uncomfortably and he could feel someone's knee pressing viciously close to his family jewels. One wrong shift was threatening a world of pain beyond what he was already feeling.

"Everyone okay?" He croaked, his voice more breathless than he'd anticipated. He took a moment to clear his throat. There were a series of 'never betters' and grunts as they all tried to pull themselves apart. One good thing about the military is that people weren't shy about where they placed their hands, which went a long way in avoiding unnecessary awkwardness. In no time at all DeBoer was dragging his giant frame out of the closet door and up to his feet. He hauled Lorne out right after him like he was a ten pound weight.

"You okay, sir?" The big Dutchman asked and Lorne nodded. He looked back into the small space, noticing for the first time that the last soldier was Sergeant Choy. The man was looking dazed as he probed the back of his head, his fingertips coming away bloody, leaving a red smear on his neck. Lorne could understand how he was feeling, a bit unsteady on his own feet. He blinked and resisted shaking his head, not wanting to aggravate his screaming headache. Doors all around them were sliding open and more people were beginning to slowly creep into the corridor, more than a few of them with visible wounds stumbling around.

Somewhere down the hall he could hear screaming.

He turned to Cadman.

"Secure this area and begin triage. You know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

Lorne nodded, turned sharply and began heading in the direction of the infirmary, his step determined despite being just a little unsteady. His head was throbbing and he had a sharp pain in his ankle when he walked, but he ignored them both. He'd had worse after sparring practice. With Sheppard.

"Lorne to Dr. Weir," he accessed his communicator as he entered the next corridor, noting that people were already sorting themselves out and trusting his people to handle the situation as he moved out.

"Yes Major, I'm here," she responded a moment later and he let out a sigh of relief at hearing her voice. It was one less thing he had to worry about.

"Are you okay?"

"Both Dr. Beckett and I are fine."

"Understood. Stand by," he ordered and then accessed the communicator again, trying not to sound as grim as he felt. He had a lot of people who needed help right now, but his first priority was making sure that the expedition leaders were safe. He'd worry about everything else after that. "Lorne to McKay." He waited a moment but there was no answer. "McKay, respond," he waited another moment, his gut clenching. "McKay, do you copy!" He snapped and there was still no response. "Lorne to Campbell!" He looked around and flagged down the first available soldier he saw.

"Campbell here sir," the technician's voice came shakily through his radio. Lorne looked at the soldier he had flagged down.

"Report to the control room and get me an update. Double time it!"

"Yes sir!" The man turned and sprinted off, Lorne activated his radio again.

"What's your status?"

"I'm okay sir," the man replied, sounding only slightly steadier.

"Is McKay still with you?" It took longer for the technician to respond than Lorne was comfortable with.

"Yes, sir, he's with me. He seems to be okay, sir."

"Seems to be?"

"He's insisting he's fine, sir. His radio was dislodged during the…landing."

"Fine. I have a soldier heading your way. Tell McKay I'm heading to the infirmary."

"Understood." Chuck replied and then disconnected.

"You had better be okay, McKay," he growled to himself as he continued to storm down the corridor. "Because I am not going to be responsible for you getting hurt again."

He marched into the infirmary a moment later and froze to take in the mess. It was apparent that while the medical staff had been able to secure a lot of things, basic supplies had been low on the priority list. Shelves lay toppled along one wall, bags of saline, bandages of all sizes, nasal canulas, pre-packaged syringes and lord knew what else was scattered all over the place. Privacy dividers were being hastily picked up from the floor and shoved out of the way against one wall. A nurse was trying to kick a disposable bedpan off her foot while righting a bedside table, and the staff hustled about trying to get the place back in order. Several people were already limping into the area under their own steam for medical aide.

Lorne almost slipped on an abdominal pad as he made his way to Beckett's office before finally stepping through the door. His eyes quickly tracked over the leaders, lingering a moment on Weir's splinted fingers with a frown. Other than that they seemed fine. He nodded at them.

"We can't reach McKay," Weir informed him crisply and he stood to attention at the tone.

"Campbell reported that McKay's okay but he's lost his radio. I've sent someone to confirm their status," he replied and she nodded, her lips pressed into a tight, unhappy line, her shoulders squared and ready for action. It wasn't that Lorne didn't trust Campbell to answer truthfully, but the man had sounded rattled over the line and may have sustained injuries himself. Lorne would have liked to have a more positive answer for her. In fact he would have preferred to go and check on the Canadian himself before coming here. But they had standard operating procedures in times of crises and, like it or not, he had to follow them. Meeting with the command staff immediately to get organized was a part of that procedure, and the location of the primary meeting was wherever Weir was.

He knew right now his soldier's were following procedures that they had trained for, doing everything they could to make sure everyone was safe and to minimize damage. In a few moments they would begin to receive preliminary reports and it was going to take a lot of coordination to bring everything back under control.

oooOOOooo

"At this point we don't know the extent of the damage to the city or the number of casualties," Weir looked at Major Lorne and forced herself to ignore the vivid bruise beginning to shade his temple. "Carson's team has already begun to set up the cafeteria as a triage centre. Anyone with severe injuries will be brought here immediately, everyone else who needs medical attention goes to triage first," she ordered. He nodded and quickly relayed the information to a few key personnel, his gaze focused as he spoke into his radio. She looked back to Carson, who was practically bouncing on his feet, no doubt itching to get to his work. She understood exactly how he felt. It was times like these, when she couldn't afford to let herself physically help in an emergency, that left her feeling useless and on edge, despite the importance of her task.

"We'll head back to the control room and set up command there," she informed the Doctor, who immediately began nodding in agreement. Her attention shifted to Lorne however, when the soldier turned his head away as he listened to his radio, his eyes crinkling unhappily at the edges until, a moment later, they smoothed out and he looked at her.

"We have confirmation that McKay and Campbell are okay," he announced and relief flooded through her as the Major turned back to his radio and began issuing a few more orders. She met Carson's eyes briefly, seeing concern reflected there and she took a deep breath. Okay. They could do this.

"Keep me updated as necessary," she told Carson and then swiftly left the infirmary, Lorne hot on her heels. There weren't as many people in the corridor as she had expected on her fast march to the control room, but twice she had to press herself against the wall as several people, military and civilian, came rushing down the hallway carrying people strapped to backboards. One of them had been screaming, a high pitched wail that only stopped when they had to suck in air.

"What's the preliminary rundown?" She asked the Major when he stopped issuing orders through his radio and he rubbed at his forehead, wincing when he encountered the dark bruise.

"We don't have a headcount yet. Two personnel were unaccounted for before the crash, their status is still unknown. Ronon Dex went to investigate their last known location but we've been unable to reach him on the radio. There have been a few reports of people trapped in various locations. There are no reported hazardous material situations yet and the armoury was locked down securely. I have also been unable to reach Colonel Sheppard or Dr. Zelenka. They should be on their way back from the mainland by now."

"Understood," Weir acknowledged as they _finally_ came to a door to the gateroom. The major neatly stepped in front of her before she could step through, going first and looking around cautiously. He paused to kick a chair that belonged on the upper deck out of the way, a frown quickly marring and then disappearing from his lips as he looked up to where it had come from. He touched his radio and gave a brief order to keep checking on Ronon's location.

Her eyes were drawn almost immediately to the stargate, and she was relieved to see it still standing, looking as majestic as it always did with the sunlight filtering in from the windows all around. A door opened across the large room and she saw several people in blue shirts coming streaming in. One of them actually beat her to the stairs, not bothering to pause and nod as he sprinted up, two laptops clutched tightly to his chest. She wasn't slow to follow and when she reached the top she finally saw Rodney, or at least the back of him as he was bent far over a console. She had seen him in that position so many times now that not even her subconscious came up with jokes anymore.

"Dr. McKay, I have your laptops," the scientist gushed out even as he held something small to McKay. His face was red from his exertion.

"Set them up there," Rodney nodded to the console beside the DHD. Beneath it Elizabeth could see a broken laptop kicked out of the way, its wires still feebly connecting it to the station. The scientist quickly pulled the wires out and flung them to the floor, forgotten, as he moved to his task. Elizabeth moved to Rodney's side, noting that Chuck was perched close by. In the time it took her to reach them he had already glanced in Rodney's direction twice, assessing him, a worried pinch to his brow. She wondered at this as Rodney looked up at her, a familiar scowl on his face as he clipped a new radio into his ear, until he realized who she was.

The brief look of relief she saw in his eyes was quickly replaced by anxiety and irritation.

"Rodney," she greeted and he stood stiffly, holding his left arm a bit gingerly. "What's the situation?" She asked and tried not to hold her breath. Just beyond them people were setting up computers in the conference room, getting the command centre ready. Rodney sucked in a breath, preparing to launch into what was no doubt going to be a withering tirade, and then he just seemed to deflate, rubbing wearily at his neck.

"We don't seem to be in danger of a repeat of what just happened. The chances of the city building up enough power for another launch, in any propulsion unit, is astronomically low without the ZPM directly feeding it, but, as it was proved only moments ago, it can happen. I've got a team in the ZPM room monitoring it directly just in case, or at least I will as soon as they get there, but I still haven't been able to pinpoint the energy source or figure out why it built up so suddenly in the propulsion systems." He paused a moment, apparently distracted before a deeper look of irritation crossed his features.

"Yes I'm aware of that! Thank you! Go talk to Kusanagi, I'm busy trying to keep your useless hide alive!" He spat. Elizabeth frowned and he quickly pointed at the radio that sat in his ear to explain that he wasn't talking to her, which she was well aware of. Then he looked at Lorne. "Chuck is working on the communication system, you should be able to talk to Sheppard in a few minutes," he informed him, pointing over at Sergeant Campbell to make sure they knew who he was referring to before looking back at Elizabeth. "Atlantis went into an automatic lockdown during the flight and landing-"

"You call that a _landing_?" Lorne cut in and Rodney glared at him.

"We are not all a bunch of bloated, mutilated corpses at the bottom of the ocean right now, so yes, I call that a _landing_. Thank you very much!" He spit and Lorne hastily raised his arms in surrender to placate him. Rodney turned back to Weir, his glare still sharp. "As I was saying, the city went into its own version of a lockdown and, seeing as we've never had to deal with a situation quite like this yet, I'm still trying to determine exactly what that means and the extent of the systems involved." He announced and then his eyes widened in alarm. "Oh my god, the plumbing!"

"Sewage and water systems seem to be functioning normally, sir," a scientist nearby announced quickly, startling Elizabeth for a moment. Rodney nodded and looked back at the screen.

'Good. That's very good," he muttered.

"Rodney?" She tried for his attention, not missing the concerned glance Chuck once again sent his way.

"Hm? Oh, right. I need to take some more readings before I can figure out what happened. Until then I can't tell you much more. Kusanagi is in charge of damage assessment and personnel. Marlow is in charge of-"

"ATLANTIS THIS IS SHEPPARD! DO YOU COPY?" Sheppard's voice suddenly boomed across the gateroom and Elizabeth flinched, her eyes automatically tracking to the ceiling before she recalled that she wouldn't be able to see him. "ATLANTIS, RES-" his voice abruptly cut out and she looked to where Rodney was glaring, which was right at Chuck. The Canadian technician stared back at McKay, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Communications are fixed," he announced. In her headset Sheppard was continuing to demand attention, his voice loud and sharp in her ear.

"Colonel this is Atlantis, we copy." She responded and Rodney turned his back on her and Lorne, looking to his monitors again. She frowned distractedly at his stiff posture, making a note to ask if he was okay later even as she addressed her frantic head of military.

"What's the situation?" he demanded, his tone as clipped as it ever got and she took a moment to empathize with how he probably felt right now.

"We're in one piece at the moment. Damage assessment is on going. Dr. McKay is trying to determine what the problem was. What's your status?"

"We're above the city now." He informed her, his drawl coming out thicker in an attempt hide his tension. She nodded to herself.

"Understood. We're in the gateroom, rendezvous here once you've docked."

"That might be a bit of a problem," his drawl was in full force as she waited for an explanation. He didn't disappoint her. "It looks like some debris has landed on the jumper bay's hatch. We'll find an alternate landing site and join you when we can."

"Understood," she acknowledged when Rodney sharply cut in.

"Wait, no, don't land," he ordered, a worried edge to his voice that did nothing for her nerves as she looked back at him.

"What is it, McKay?" Sheppard demanded.

"You need to head to the west pier, I'm sending you the coordinates now," he announced even as he worked, a map of the city appearing on the screen in front of him.

"What's there?" She demanded as Rodney finished his task and looked over at her grimly.

"Ronon's there."

Beyond the stained glass windows a shadow passed as the jumper sped away.


	4. Man Down

**Chapter 4: Man Down**

The afternoon sun would have been blinding if not for the jumper's automatic tinted windows, but in the distance light still reflected powerfully off the water's surface. There was barely a cloud in the sky and for the few hours Sheppard had spent in the sun that day, it had been very, very warm.

The weather didn't at all mimic the severity of what Atlantis was going through, and for some reason that kind of pissed him off.

"Where are we looking here?" he asked Zelenka seeing the Czech hastily working off to his right. The man leaned forward a bit more.

"Coordinates say we are going near end of the pier," he responded quickly, not looking up so he missed Sheppard's look of annoyance.

"Yeah, I know that," he drawled, trying not to let too much frustration leak into his voice. "What I meant was have you picked up on Ronon's life sign yet?"

"Not yet." John looked out the view screen. He banked the jumper to the right, going around another high-rise, the rutted walls looked like they were glowing under the sunlight and many of the indented windows flashed rainbow colours as they passed by. The route he had set hadn't been to go around the city, but to go through it. It might involve a bit more concentration on his part while flying, but in the end it was the fastest way to get where they were going. He knew this for a fact.

McKay had been slightly green in the face when he had proved it to him.

"Are you there yet?" the scientist's voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts and he banked around another building. The structures were beginning to level out, he would be there soon.

"We'll get there as soon as we can McKay, keep your pants on."

"Oh yes, because my pants are our greatest concern right now." The Canadian snapped back through the radio and, despite everything, Sheppard grinned.

"Maybe they should be," he drawled as they passed the last of the city's largest buildings. It was mainly flat from here to the city's edge now, with the city's exterior turning into what they had speculated were very, very large landing platforms. Or the perfect locale for kite flying.

"What? What do you mean by that? There's nothing wrong with my pants, Colonel," McKay snapped, his response more delayed and distracted than usual, but at least it was slightly calmer.

"Whatever you say, Rodney." Sheppard looked at Zelenka. "You read anything yet?" he asked and the man shook his head negatively and then paused.

"Wait! Yes! There, near the tip of the pier, north side, I have three life signs!" The scientist gestured excitedly and Sheppard turned the Jumper to exactly where the man directed. He tried calling Ronon again but there was still no answer, which was worrying.

"McKay? What did Ronon say was wrong when he called you?"

"He didn't," the scientists said sharply through the radio. "He said, and I quote, _McKay, I need help, west pier._ And that was it." The Canadian explained and John could understand why he sounded so concerned: Ronon _never_ asked for help unless he was in serious trouble.

"Right. We've picked up their life signs," he informed him. "We'll be there in a minute, Sheppard out." He dropped the jumper lower, almost dangerously close to the surface, as he sped along.

"There!" Zelenka's arm was suddenly shoved across his line of vision, pointing out the front of the Jumper. John quickly reached up and pushed it out of his way, hearing the scientist mutter a quick apology as the man sat back down in his seat. It didn't matter though, as he could see where Zelenka had been pointing. Two people were jumping up and down, waving their arms frantically in the air to try and get their attention.

Seeing as they were both dressed in nothing but swimwear it wasn't that difficult to draw Sheppard's attention. He accessed his radio even as he gently touched the jumper down.

"We've located two people and are investigating. Stand- by," he ordered as they jumped from their seats and swiftly moved on the back of the jumper. The moment he stepped out of the ship an oppressive wave of heat slammed into him but there was no time to adjust as both people, scientists he now recognized, ran towards them.

"Oh, thank god!" The woman cried out, stopping just short of hugging them. Among a large assortment of small, darkening bruises she had a nasty looking cut on her bare midriff, one hand clutched at it, blood spilling between delicate fingers. It was the other guy though, that got his attention.

"He's over the side," he said sharply and then pointed to where they had just sprinted from, grimacing in pain from the action. Sheppard wasted no time sprinting to the edge of the city, ignoring the smear of blood on the decking as he moved past it and threw himself onto his stomach. He slid forward and leaned over the edge as far as he dared, ignoring the fourteen story drop to the water as best he could.

And there was Ronon, dreadlocks and all.

"Hey buddy, having fun?" He asked and managed not to frown too much when his team member looked up at him, blood covering half his face and filling one eye. He just grunted a response, obviously too tired or out of it to do much more than that. "Hang on, we'll have you up here in no time," Sheppard announced and then pulled himself back from the edge.

"Is he there?" Zelenka asked him immediately, standing a good few meters away and not making any attempt to look for himself.

"Yeah. He's about two stories down hanging from one of those pipe things that stick out everywhere," he said as he headed back to the jumper with Zelenka hot on his trail. The two scientists were pale, no doubt shock was setting in, where they now sat on the jumper's back benches. "You two, into the front of the jumper, strap yourselves in," he barked sharply and they both jumped, stared a moment, and then scrambled to comply. Sheppard reached up above the bench they had just vacated and quickly pulled down a large coil of black rope and turned to Zelenka.

"What is your plan?" The man asked, already taking one end of the rope Sheppard passed him.

"I'm going to make you a hero," he grinned at him, perhaps a bit too sharply as Zelenka's eyes widened behind his glasses. Sheppard began knotting a makeshift harness out of his end of the rope. "Step into this," he ordered as soon as he finished. He had to give Zelenka credit when the man only looked at him like he was psychotic for a moment before he followed the directive and stepped into the proffered leg loops. Sheppard briefly wondered if it was the same look the man gave McKay every time he was told to do something that he wasn't quite sure of. It said a lot about his trust in him and because of that Sheppard tried to be a little gentler as he secured the makeshift harness around him than he would have been with one of his soldiers.

"Okay, here's the plan," he announced as he double checked that the scientist was actually secure and measured out an appropriate length of rope from the harness before securing it to a hook in the jumper wall. "I'm going to fly the jumper down to Ronon…"

"…and I will open back and pull him in," Zelenka was taking off his glasses as he said this and placing them on the bench beside them. Sheppard stared at him a moment. "Is not rocket science, Colonel," he announced, sounding insulted as he turned and walked the two steps to the jumper's hatch. Sheppard quickly blinked at the man and then rushed to his seat, ignoring the wide-eyed gazes of the passengers. He didn't know the two very well, they hadn't been in the city that long yet and he was pretty sure they were botanists, or environmentalists, or something ists. Regardless to say he didn't have a lot to do with scientists who were so far removed from McKay's field.

"You two do not move from those seats, understood?" he barked out, not looking at them as he concentrated on the controls. He was pleased with the quick agreement he received.

He focused on his controls, satisfied with the jumper's immediate response.

About ten seconds later he had the back of the open jumper facing the wall where Ronon was. He didn't dare look away from his controls as he worked, needing to focus on his readings. The wind was a lot stronger up against the solid wall of Atlantis than it had been up on its surface.

"Zelenka! I need a bit of direction here!"

"You need to be two meters to the left!" The man yelled back, his accent thick, and Sheppard quickly complied. "Your left!" The Czech yelled and Sheppard grit his teeth as he changed direction. "Okay stop there! Now back straight into wall three more meters," Sheppard complied. "Now up three feet!" He waited a moment, concentrating hard as the wind from outside forced itself to the front of the shuttle and ruffled his hair. "Now back up slowly another meter!" He heard Zelenka order. He moved the Jumper back the requested distance. "A little more!" Zelenka yelled. "A little more," he ordered again. "A little more!"

"Zelenka!" Sheppard snapped, frustrated at not being able to see.

"Okay, okay! Hold here!" Sheppard held and then he heard a heavy thudding sound and a groan.

"Zelenka, what's going on? Ronon?"

"They're in, Colonel," the male scientist behind him quickly informed him. "Ronon's fallen on top of Dr. Zelenka, I don't think he can breathe at the moment."

"Are they clear of the hatch?"

"Yes, sir, you can close it," he gushed out and Sheppard did just that, then he pulled a safe distance away from the city's wall, noting the wind velocities immediate decrease. He twisted in the pilot's seat to look in the back, relief flooding his system as he saw Ronon blanketed over the much smaller man.

"Can't…breathe!" Zelenka pushed feebly at the warrior, and Ronon took the hint. He slowly pushed himself off his crushed rescuer and leaned against a bench. He looked dazed, and his eye was really kind of creepy with all that blood in it.

"You okay big guy?" He asked and Ronon looked back at him, slowly lifting one arm, which Sheppard noted was scraped pretty spectacularly across the shoulder, to hug across his torso.

"Huh?" Dark eyes stared at him.

"No, am not okay," Zelenka huffed, pushing himself to his knees and sucking in a couple of deep breaths as he tried to untangle from the rope. He had some of Ronon's blood on his shirt. "Man weighs more than an elephant. I did not believe McKay when he told me it was so. At most I thought maybe large ox, but now I believe," he grumbled and reached for his glasses, shoving them back onto his nose. Ronon watched him as he did this and blinked slowly.

"Huh?"

Zelenka looked at the Satedan and then over at Sheppard, who was still watching them carefully. "I think he needs the infirmary," he announced.

"He's not the only one," Sheppard replied as he quickly set the jumper towards the main part of the city again, wondering where he was going to land.

"Atlantis this is Sheppard," he announced as he flew, keeping one ear to Zelenka as the Czech tried to look over Ronon.

"Go ahead Colonel," Weir immediately responded. He was briefly surprised not to hear McKay, but the man was probably too busy to respond at the moment.

We've got Ronon. He's injured, we don't know how badly yet. We've also picked up Drs.," he paused and looked over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"Ramirez and Eglington," the woman quickly supplied as the man moved towards her with a bandage from the back.

"Drs. Ramirez and Eglington. Both seem a little worse for wear."

"Understood, Colonel," her relief was clear over the radio. "We have an assessment team on its way to the Jumper bay's hatch but at this time you still won't be able to access it. You'll need to find an alternative landing site."

"Understood. How's the situation?"

"Casualties are still reporting to both sickbay and triage, Major Lorne is organizing search and assessment teams. Three people are trapped in a lab but they're in no immediate danger." She announced and there was a moment's pause before her voice, quieter now, tickled back into his ear. "At this point we have no confirmed deaths." He swallowed thickly.

"Understood. Is there any threat of a repeat?"

"Not at this time. Dr. McKay is assessing the situation," she announced and Sheppard nodded though she couldn't see.

"Understood. Our ETA is five minutes."

"We'll see you then, Colonel," she cut the connection. The two scientists behind him were silent, barely talking to each other as they stayed in their seats and he could hear Zelenka muttering in his native tongue in the back. Whatever had just happened, it had been close. Way too close. He gripped the jumper's controls too tightly as he flew, taking slow even breaths to calm himself.

"Sheppard?" McKay barked into his ear a minute later, sounding harassed and hurried and irritated. "How's Ronon?" and concerned. John relaxed a fraction and twisted in his seat to check again. He was going to have whiplash by the time they parked.

Ronon was still blinking heavily and clutching an arm protectively over his stomach. Zelenka was scowling at him, trying to place a bandage on his forehead. Ronon slapped the scientist's hand away every time he got close. Sheppard turned back to his controls.

"He's going to be just fine, McKay," he announced and found that he believed it. "So are Ramirez and Eglington" he added on, wanting to draw out the conversation a bit longer. As sad as it was, it helped him relax.

"What? What are they doing with you? What were they doing at the edge of the west pier?"

"No idea," Sheppard lied, thinking about their current choice in clothing. "Radek's okay as well," he tagged on.

"What happened to Radek? How could he have possibly been injured? Are you trying to get rid of the only other possibly competent scientist in the entire city?"

"I'm not, but I can't say the same for Ronon." McKay harrumphed on the other end of the radio and was silent for a long moment, his breathing coming through loud and heavy as he concentrated on whatever he was doing. Sheppard relaxed in his seat a little more.

"And just exactly _what_ is wrong with my pants?" the Canadian suddenly snapped.

John smiled.

oooOOOooo

"Sadly enough," Rodney found himself saying as he gazed forlornly at the destruction around them, "I didn't foresee this happening."

"Well, technically _we_ didn't foresee this happening. None of us. Which is why it wasn't a part of our lockdown itinerary," Sheppard crossed his arms beside him, his elbow briefly brushing Rodney's and the Canadian looked over at the man quickly before looking back at the bay.

"Still," he couldn't seem to let this go, "I should have realized this could happen. It didn't even occur to me when the city was taking off."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you had a few other things on your mind at the time," Sheppard said and Rodney snorted, because that was a _bit_ of an understatement. "So we'll forgive you this once," the soldier allowed. Rodney glared at him briefly, then back at the Jumper bay, where half the jumpers lay on their sides, on their roofs, on an angle, leaning against their upper level perches, or just crushed up against each other so tightly that not even air could press between them.

The jumper bay was in a sad state, not that it really mattered at the moment since they wouldn't have been able to use the ships anywhere except off world. The roof was blocked from opening by both debris and a hefty dent which wouldn't allow the doors to slide open all the way until they somehow hammered it flat again, or replaced it.

"This sucks," he grumbled, knowing he sounded all of ten and not caring in the least.

"It's not so bad," Lieutenant Colonel Optimist announced. "We'll get a bunch of big, strong, heavy weight champion marines in here to roll them back into place," he decided and Rodney glared at him. "Or a bunch of well trained engineers from both our departments with lots of ropes, chains and pulleys." Rodney nodded and then turned around, quickly leaving the jumper bay and its destruction behind him. He didn't want to look at it anymore.

"Hey," Sheppard stepped up beside him, "It could have been a lot worse," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, but he still felt like he should have done something more, been more prepared for this type of disaster. "We knew this was a flying city," he muttered to himself, "I should have expected something like this to happen, should have insisted that our diagnostics on all the propulsion systems were preformed months ago. Obviously I should have at least had one team devoted to the systems at all times, regardless of whether the ZPM had enough power to fly the city…"

"McKay?" Sheppard interrupted his thoughts and he looked at the man, who was watching him carefully. Had he just said all that out loud? "When was the last time you ate?"

"I could eat," he answered, pretending it was an invitation and not a question. The Colonel's eyes narrowed a moment before he nodded and turned back to looking where he was walking.

Rodney could so eat right now, in fact he was pretty sure he could pack away a good half dozen MRE's, which was about ten thousand more calories than he needed but who was counting? He wanted food, the largest cup of coffee the city had to offer, and a long, warm shower. Or a bath. A bath would be nice, it would help sooth the giant aching area that was his entire back. And his left side. And his left arm.

"You okay, Rodney?" Sheppard asked suddenly, breaking their silence and Rodney glanced at him quickly.

"Of course, would I be walking around here trying to make sense of this chaos if I wasn't? Because I am perfectly fine," he insisted, and even tossed in a little half smirk, knowing that smiling always helped people believe you. He hadn't even been awake nine hours yet and he was already exhausted. "You said something about coffee?"

"I said something about food, but coffee will be there." The man pointed him in the direction of the gateroom and Rodney diligently followed, thinking about the scans he had running for the propulsion systems and wishing they would finish a bit quicker. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about how close they had almost come to sinking their own city because he had thought the propulsion system inspections weren't a top priority. Because he had _assumed_ that there wasn't enough power in the city to set them off, let alone actually fly anywhere. They could have all died. They could have all drowned.

Well, _he_ wouldn't have drowned, but that might have been more of a curse than a blessing. To watch everyone struggle around him for their last breaths. To be the sole survivor. He shuddered.

He needed to think of something else. Something that wasn't drowning. Something…

"So, apparently Eglington and Ramirez are already planning a thank you party to Ronon for saving their lives," Sheppard randomly announced and Rodney blinked at the man a moment, processing what he said before rolling his eyes.

"Great. Ronon gets a party, I get a 'good job.' Where, in any universe, is that fair?" he grumbled half heartedly as they entered the gateroom and Sheppard grinned, because it was the only response he could think to give that McKay would accept at this point. Mind you, Sheppard had been present when McKay had discovered that the two scientists had gone off to sunbathe at one of the farthest points of the city without taking their radios. McKay had not been kind, despite the banged up state his people were in, and when he had stormed out of the triage centre the entire room had been staring at their little group and the dressing down the two doctors had received.

McKay was never one to mince words, and while he was getting better at choosing when to use them, he tended to forgo all attempts at discretion when he was stressed and worried out of his mind.

The two doctors were phenomenally fortunate that Ronon had seen them heading out to the pier early in the morning and been able to get there in time to warn them. Regardless, the two scientists would never go anywhere without their radios ever again. Actually, Sheppard was now pretty sure that after the colourful and very loud speech Rodney had given, that _no one_ would be walking around without their radios for a very long time. Not that he would ever have that issue with his own men, but he had caught a few of them subtly checking to make sure their radios were still secured on their way out of triage.

Despite the good intentions behind Rodney's words, the two scientists weren't feeling too charitable towards McKay right now.

But that didn't mean that others were feeling the same, John noted as several people paused to watch McKay as they climbed the steps of the gateroom. The man was walking more stiffly than usual, and grumbling to himself about people being ungrateful and nobody appreciating the sheer level of his genius and completely missing the looks of admiration directed towards him.

He usually missed those looks, being as caught up in himself as he sometimes was.

Sheppard grinned as they stepped into the conference room where Weir was still heading crisis control and McKay made a beeline for the table with coffee, fruit, and a stack of MRE's. The man went for the coffee first, and two MRE's immediately after, and then parked himself in the seat beside Zelenka, demanding an update even as he forked macaroni into his mouth.

"Sir," Major Lorne stepped up beside him, following his gaze to the scientists a moment before looking back at him. "All personnel are present and accounted for."

"Good," Sheppard nodded and then looked over his second in command. "You had that checked out yet?" he asked and when Lorne looked confused he pointed at the massive bruise on his forehead that disappeared into his hair. Lorne automatically reached up to prod what Sheppard had pointed at and then winced.

"It's nothing, sir. I'll get checked out later," and Sheppard nodded, because he trusted Lorne to know his limitations. He looked back at McKay and wished he felt the same about him.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth smiled softly at them both as she stood from her seat. John could hear the sound of her spine adjusting as she moved, and grinned when she looked momentarily embarrassed before she picked up her coffee mug. She came over to stand next to them. "Anything to report?"

"Nothing on my end," Sheppard eyed her coffee mug and thought about getting one for himself.

"Mulwray's team will be surveying the jumper bay's roof shortly to assess the situation and decide on the best method for clearing the debris," Lorne announced grimly.

"Good. The majority of the people within triage have been treated and released. We're hoping to have the commissary open in approximately six hours."

"Six hours? There're still that many people in there?" Sheppard had known there were a lot of injuries, but it hadn't been that full by the time Rodney had finished chewing out Ramirez and Eglington.

"The kitchens weren't a priority in the lockdown and, given the time constraint we were working under the majority of the commissary staff had more important duties elsewhere. It's going to take them a while to clean it up."

"I have a few men on light duties that could help out," Lorne offered quickly and Sheppard withheld a smirk. It was no secret that Lorne despised MRE's.

"That would be appreciated, Major," Weir smiled gently but it did little to remove the strain from around her eyes. "In the mean time we're not going to rescind our state of emergency until the science division understands exactly what went wrong and can assure us that it will not happen again." She said, so of course Rodney took that cue to stand up and announce to the entire room.

"Okay, we have another problem."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him. McKay actually looked startled at the level of intensity that suddenly focused on him.

"It's not an immediate problem people, relax. You'd think I just announced the apocalypse," he rolled his eyes at the room in general and beside him, still seated, Zelenka rolled his eyes at McKay.

"Yes, with announcement like that I can not imagine why they would think something is wrong."

"Something is wrong," Rodney scowled as he headed to the coffee and poured himself another cup. Sheppard went over and copied his friend's actions.

"What's the problem, Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth asked. She had once admitted to John that she rarely used Rodney's title because it did unfortunate things to his ego. In this case, she appeared to be using it to (hopefully) curb the little argument the two scientists were about to get into. It worked as the Canadian sighed and moved stiffly back to his seat.

"We think we know how the sub-light systems activated," he said as he sat down slower than usual, and Sheppard frowned as he took his own seat beside him, coffee mug warming his hand. Maybe he should have had the medics take a look at McKay when they'd been at triage earlier.

"And more importantly, we know where they received their power from," Radek finished for him. He folded his hands in front of him, clasped them, and then unclasped them and began typing on his computer. Dr. Weir looked between them a moment and then took her own seat.

"Which is?" she hedged.

"Do you remember the storm that hit in our first year here?" Zelenka asked, turning back to his computer and not noticing the grim look on Weir's face. "We deactivated the grounding stations so we could utilize the electricity from the storm to power the city shield," he started with a brief and unnecessary history before Rodney stepped in, waving him off.

"Which as you'll recall was a _lot_ of electricity. The unfortunate problem with that plan was that there was no way to properly capture and store this raw power, so when the electricity was being conducted through the city it was supposed to go directly into the shield."

"And when there was no longer enough electricity coming directly from the storm to power the shield, the shield deactivated. We thought that all power gathered in storm had been consumed," Zelenka waved a hand in the air.

"Except that we were wrong." Rodney looked pained as he admitted this.

"Wrong?" Sheppard sat a little straighter in his chair and Rodney huffed.

"Yes. Wrong. That was a big storm, and I mean like a phenomenally big storm. Apparently when the lightening was being conducted through the city and into the shield there was way more power than the shield could actually utilize immediately."

"And, with grounding stations inactive there was nowhere for this excess power to be immediately released. There was no pressure release valve, so to speak." Zelenka pushed his glasses back into place on his nose.

"So we think that a large portion of this unused power was somehow funnelled into the city's dormant systems by the city itself, like a safety net when it couldn't get rid of it or store it properly," Rodney explained, still looking pained.

"And, because we never activated these systems the power has been circulating through the entire city, looping around in tireless circles, all this time. Unused but very present," Zelenka concluded

"How is that even possible?" Elizabeth asked, a frown on her face as she leaned forward in her seat, forearms braced on the table and splinted fingers jutting out.

"That," McKay shook his hand thoughtfully in the air and then pointed at her "we don't know yet."

"But we will," Zelenka helpfully informed them. "We now have starting point to investigate the how's and why's."

"Which is a bit of a moot point now, seeing as the engines have used most of the extra power anyway," McKay picked up his coffee and took a long, disgruntled drink.

"So, how did this energy set off the engines then?" Sheppard asked, "and you said there's still some of this excess power in the systems? Could it still be dangerous?"

"We have determined that there was damage to power relays here, and here," Zelenka stood and pointed at a schematic he had launched on the large screen in the wall. "Which are systems specifically designed to maintain steady power input and output to propulsion systems."

"Over time the damage to those relays would have increased until one, or maybe even both of them, just stopped working. Once they were damaged to that point the power had nowhere to go but into the propulsion units, and no way to dissipate from said units. Its potential over load built quicker than I would have expected and with no time to properly diagnose and contain the problem we were left with the option of having the city take off and land with a little extra help, or explode. Naturally I chose the first option," Rodney completed for him.

"Which turned out much better than it possibly should have," Zelenka hurriedly added, and then watched McKay contemplatively. "How you managed to control take off and shield city without control chair you will have to show me."

"Yes, yes, later," McKay waved him off, either not recognizing the compliment Zelenka had just given him, or not having time to preen. Which, for Rodney, was unusual. Sheppard frowned.

"Why didn't you use the chair?" he wondered out loud and Rodney frowned at him.

"Because, Colonel Super Gene, I do not have a strong enough connection with the chair to be able to control it with ease. It would have taken too much concentration to just ask the thing to send the city airborne let alone respond to all of my other demands. Plus my reaction time for raising the shield may have been affected. I couldn't risk it. None of which matters right now, because we have another small problem to deal with," McKay sighed.

"Yes," Zelenka quickly agreed. "We have performed base analysis of systems now and we will not have problem with the engines again, but there is still small amount of excess power in systems."

"And by small he means large enough to still cause another explosion, which is fun for everyone and their friends," Rodney rubbed at his eyebrow, frowning hard at his computer. "Some of the systems were, obviously, damaged after the flight and now this _small _amount of power is building up here," he pointed a hand towards the screen on the room's larger display screen. However, seeing as he was still seated and the screen was a good two and a half meters away from him it had little effect. Zelenka, who was still standing beside it, shook his head before obediently pointing it out for McKay.

"It should not be difficult problem to fix," Zelenka looked to Rodney to confirm this, and when he nodded Zelenka continued. "It is a simple matter of some delicate rewiring and then we may divert energy into primary systems, which will use left over power until it is gone and then return to using generators and ZPM."

"So what's the problem?" Weir asked, looking at Rodney who was looking less pleased by the minute.

"The problem is the location of the damage, which is approximately one hundred and ten metres below the ocean surface, on the exterior of the city."

"Well, it would be interior," Zelenka cut in, "but it would take too long to get there going through city as there are no easy access points and it is in unexplored area."

"How long do we have?" Sheppard asked, looking to McKay, who pursed his lips in distaste before answering.

"About two hours, give or take."

"Give or take?" Sheppard asked sharply.

"Yes, give or take," McKay snapped back. "At this point an estimate is the best we can do."

"So," Sheppard leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed McKay. "I guess we're going swimming."

"No, _I_ am going swimming. We can't trust these repairs to anyone else. You are going to be near by in a jumper in case anything goes wrong."

Huh.

And there it was, no wonder McKay didn't look happy about this. Swimming was hardly at the top of his list of favourite things. From beside Sheppard Weir sighed softly.

"How long do you need to get ready?" She asked.

"Not long. Half an hour at the most," Rodney answered.

Right. Now they only had to hope that nothing else would go wrong.


	5. Being a Realist

**Chapter 5: Being a Realist**

By the time John landed the jumper and made it back into the city Lorne was elbow deep into command mode and ordering people around with such efficiency that Sheppard felt comfortable leaving the military's end of rescue and recovery operations in his capable hands. The Major hadn't looked too pleased to still be carrying the responsibility when John informed him, but he'd nodded sharply in understanding and gone right back to ordering people around.

Having the man remain in charge like that had caused a bit of a twitch in John's jaw, one that he forcefully clenched his teeth against; this was a good experience for Lorne, and John had had his fair share of cleaning up after disasters. Still, it was difficult not to follow his own instincts and take charge while he waited for McKay and his team to finish preparing for their emergency repair run.

Of course, the fact that Atlantis' cooling systems hadn't kicked in yet wasn't helping with any of the clean up or rescue efforts, or the fact that the planet was reaching the end of its' hottest season and was trying to cook them from the outside in. When he had asked Rodney how soon they could get the air conditioning running the man's slightly maniacal laughter could be heard the entire length of the corridor as he'd ran off.

Well, at least the water and sewage systems weren't on the fritz; as far as he was concerned that was a major mercy. Toilets backing up all over his city, coupled with a lack of decent air ventilation and no way to properly clean the waste or dispose of it…it really wasn't worth visualizing. Not to mention that proper hydration would become an issue since most of McKay's scientists would forget to take water breaks unless there was a running tap right beside them. At least his soldiers would recognize the dangers of heatstroke and take measures to prevent it.

What they couldn't prevent were the injuries suffered. Some were severe, too severe, and he pushed that knowledge roughly to the back of his mind, to be dealt with later. Instead he'd paid attention to those that were mobile and moving around him. Sheppard had stepped aside as a group of soldiers wheeled oxygen and acetylene tanks to a stairwell, cutting torches, flints and masks piled hastily on top. People were crouched or standing or bent halfway into panels on the walls, hands busily working, computers spitting information at them. The botany lab was littered with dirt and uprooted plants that had slipped their holdings, leaving brown smears everywhere. In the biology lab a loose stool had smashed into a fish tank; the glass shards had been brushed into a pile and pushed aside; a dead fish was wedged behind a light fixture on the wall.

In some places there was no damage at all. The corridors, or previously empty rooms had almost nothing out of place, nothing broken, and nothing dirty. They were almost eerie, their silence interrupted only by the echoing sound of people working everywhere else.

They creeped John out and he was glad to leave them behind as he finally stepped into the cafeteria. He took a quick look around at all the people still waiting for medical attention before stepping past them and into the kitchen itself. It was a whole different kind of frenzy in here with people still bent over picking up what looked like cutlery. All the large pots and pans seemed to be shoved against the far wall that was usually lined with the giant cooling racks for baked goods, a soldier was sweeping up a large pile of debris in between the counters and it looked like everyone else was checking the food stores.

John stood there a moment, not quite sure how to get where he wanted to go, and eyed the door to the storage room. If he slid over the counter on his right he could-

"Sir?" John snapped his head around to look at the corporal that had called out to him. The man blinked at him a moment before looking over at the door John had been staring at, and then back to him. "Is there something you needed?"

Why was it that, regardless of your position in the city, the kitchen staff could make you feel like you were going to get scolded for sticking your hand in the cookie jar? McKay was more terrified of the cooks than of John's most hardened soldiers, and even Ronon eyed them with respect.

"Actually, yes." John tried to sound as casual as possible, relaxing his posture so he looked maybe, just a little, dejected. He usually got anything he wanted when he did this, but it was a time of crises and he couldn't be sure that it would work. "I was just going to check if any of those muffins from breakfast survived the landing." The Corporal blinked at him again and then looked back at the room where all the baked goods were usually stored.

"I'm afraid not, sir. A minor phosgene leak got into the pantry before Atlantis' systems could clear the air and contaminated everything." John nodded, frowning. That was a lot of food that had gone to waste.

"Okay, just thought I'd check. Carry on," he said and turned to leave.

"Sir? Perhaps McKay would prefer this instead?" John turned and caught the wrapped chocolate bar Corporal Ames tossed at him. He blinked at the Coffee Crisp in surprise.

"I didn't say anything about McKay, Corporal," he answered, and the man actually rolled his eyes at him. Seriously, if the kitchen staff wasn't in charge of all the food…

"No, sir. But the muffins this morning were chocolate walnut, and we _all_ know how you feel about walnuts. Is there anything else you needed, sir? We have a lot of work to do," the man hedged and John quickly shook his head.

"No, Corporal, that will be all. Thanks." He tucked the chocolate bar into his pocket and quickly left the cafeteria before they could make any more assumptions about why he was there. He went to the control room, having it on good authority that that was where McKay had last been seen, and walked in to hear him ordering people about from the upper platform. When it fell quiet John called up to get the man's attention.

It was time for them to get going.

oooOOOooo

Rodney turned away from the people he had just sent off and picked up his mug, frowning when he found it empty. He looked over at Chuck suspiciously but the Sergeant just ignored him as he went about his duties, and besides, he was too far away to sneak Rodney's coffee without him noticing. And it looked like he had a mug of his own. Maybe Rodney would just go over there and help himself to that, because the coffee machine was in the briefing room and that was almost too far away for Rodney to move right now.

"McKay!" Rodney sighed. Or not. Rodney pointedly activated his earpiece, refusing to move from his seat to go look over the balcony's railing.

"Colonel," Rodney frowned, though the man couldn't see him.

"I heard you were skulking around up here," Sheppard called up again, ignoring the radio completely. Rodney felt his frustration rise enough to push himself out of his chair, ignoring the massive protest his body made at the movement, and took the three steps to the railing. Crossing his arms, and then gingerly uncrossing them when a sharp pain radiated up his left arm, he glared down at Sheppard. From this distance the man looked cross-eyed.

"I don't skulk."

"Lurking then?"

"If anything, I was reigning over my domain."

"Your domain? I don't think Elizabeth would agree with that one,"

"Is there something you wanted, Colonel?" he found himself snapping instead, not feeling any remorse at the tone, because seriously, they were in a crisis situation here and he didn't have time to just stand around and talk about useless-

"You about ready to head out in the jumper?" Sheppard asked and okay, maybe the man wasn't there just to annoy him with pointless conversation. Rodney quickly checked his watch and couldn't believe that an entire hour had passed already. It just wasn't fair how time sped up when you really wanted it to just slow down. Right about now Rodney would do just about anything to have it slow down.

"Of course I'm ready. I've been waiting for the rest of you," he announced and turned away, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement sent pain roaring through his back and shoulders. He opened his eyes to find Chuck watching him carefully from his seat and Rodney glared at him, daring him to comment, before unplugging the laptop he was taking with him. He announced to the room at large that he was leaving, on his way to save them all. Again.

As he headed down the stairs he was just glad that his legs didn't hurt like the rest of his body and then he was standing next to the Colonel. "Here, take this," the Colonel said and then handed him something small with a yellow wrapper. It took Rodney a few seconds to realize what he now possessed, and he looked back at John surprised.

"Where did you find a Coffee Crisp?"

"I have my sources, Rodney. We can't have you fainting from 'manly hunger' while you're off fixing Atlantis, now can we?" The tone was faintly mocking, but the gesture made Rodney feel better as he tore open the Coffee Crisp and then took a bite. Sheppard gave him a moment to savour the chocolate, and then placed a hand on his shoulder to steer him toward the door.

"Come on, McKay. Zelenka's waiting." Rodney nodded wearily and let John's hand guide his footsteps, before realizing that Sheppard was covered in sweat and Rodney took an immediate step away from the man, frowning in disgust.

"Ever hear of bathing, Colonel? It's been socially accepted for centuries now."

"I don't believe in archaic conventions," Sheppard shrugged and headed out of the control room. Rodney followed the man as he popped the last of the chocolate bar into his mouth, and then shoved him away when he purposely brushed a sweaty arm against Rodney's bare skin.

"Oh my god!" Rodney hastily wiped his arm on his shirt, "do you have no concept of hygiene? I may have just caught an alien STD through your sweat glands. I can't believe you," he frowned down at his arm and looked over to see Sheppard's smirk replaced with a genuine grin at his reaction. _Apparently maturity was not a prerequisite when joining the air force. _ "Yes, ha ha. Laugh it up, Colonel. We'll see who's smiling when you're stuck in quarantine for a week because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

"Touchy much, McKay? What's got your flippers in a twist this morning?"

"I'll have you know I was perfectly happy until you started smearing your bodily fluids all over me," he argued as they rounded a corner and nearly ran right into Miko Kusanagi. They all kind of froze in the hallway, and Rodney immediately tried to figure out which way to step around her before he became aware of her wide eyes and pinking cheeks.

"Miko? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" He asked, worried.

"Oh no, I am fine," she softly answered, blinking out from behind her thick, round glasses. Rodney looked at John to see if he believed her only to find the man trying to hide a grin. He looked back at Kusanagi. The woman was looking back and forth between them, her cheeks reddening even more. "Please excuse me Dr. McKay, Colonel Sheppard," she quickly gushed out.

"Hey, no problem," Sheppard drawled, "we're just as much in your path as you are in ours."

"Of course, forgive me," she said, apparently not listening to Sheppard at all. Still, if she wasn't hurt then she looked more rattled than the situation warranted, imminent doom aside, and Rodney frowned at her.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" He asked again and she quickly bowed her head.

"No, no, of course not, Doctor. I must get to the jumper now and prepare my equipment before we launch. I will see you both there," she quickly stepped around them, her cheeks still red. Rodney thought back to what they had been saying just before rounding the corner and the light clicked.

"Great, now she thinks we spend our time smearing bodily fluids on each other," he grumbled and Sheppard laughed.

"At least this way she probably won't have that big of a crush on you any more," he grinned and Rodney scowled back.

"Oh yes, because that makes this whole situation so much better!" He frowned. "Wait, she has a crush on me? Since when?" Sheppard just gently reached up and pushed on his shoulder, propelling him once again down the hallway.

Sheppard must have been joking. Rodney would have noticed something like that. Wouldn't he? Great, now things were probably going to be all awkward and he'd have to find a way to tell her that while she was beautiful and brilliant he just didn't think they were right for each other. Would it go over better if he told her it wasn't her but him? Because he did have the utmost respect for her as a scientist, and by utmost he of course meant that she was much better than the average idiot that he was given to work with despite still being so far below him on the intelligence scale. Despite all those wonderful traits he just couldn't see her in any kind of romantic way.

Did this mean he was going to have to set her sights on someone else so they could go back to a normal working relationship? Damn it, he didn't have time to play matchmaker on top of everything else! On the other hand, now that he was aware of her feelings he would be seeing them everywhere and he couldn't have that distraction. But she deserved someone of at least her own calibre, especially if she was going to set her standards as high as him. Radek was still single, right?

"Ready to gear up, Casanova?" Sheppard asked and Rodney looked around to realize that they'd somehow ended up in the prep room. Rodney blinked. When had that happened? _Oh my god_ he thought, _I've_ _been wasting valuable minutes during a crisis contemplating my subordinates love life. We're all doomed!_

"Relax McKay, you didn't miss anything important in your thirty second hiatus," Sheppard drawled as he walked over to his own equipment locker and began throwing his tack vest on over his sweaty t-shirt. Rodney glared at him.

"You're a mind reader now?" He snapped and Sheppard looked over at him, raising his eyebrows in question and Rodney quickly looked away. His eyes fell on the large soldier that had cleared the halls for him earlier that morning. He was dressed from ankles to neck in a wet suit, his feet shoved into his black boots with the laces untied, a set of scuba tanks tossed over one shoulder and a bag of equipment in his hand. He looked utterly ridiculous, and, strangely enough, much more intimidating. Maybe it was because the suit was so tight it emphasized his massive muscles.

"Corporal DeBoer," Sheppard acknowledged from behind McKay. Rodney nodded at the man quickly and then moved to his own locker, ignoring the brief and dismissive conversation between the two soldiers as he searched for his own equipment. He didn't hear the door to the room close behind the Corporal as he left, but he did hear Sheppard slump against the locker right beside his own. He looked at the man and scowled, which had absolutely no effect.

"You okay to do this, Rodney?" he asked and Rodney almost cringed at the note of concern in Sheppard's voice. This wasn't soldier Sheppard anymore, this was John, and Rodney sighed as he finally pulled out his modified dive suit, the material thick in his hand.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He answered quickly and winced internally at the rushed words.

"Rodney," Sheppard growled at him and Rodney turned and sat slowly, bending over carefully to unlace his shoes and biting his cheek to hide the pain of the action.

"I'm fine. Really. It's just a little underwater excursion."

"Yeah, and if I recall correctly you've avoided using your gills as much as possible since you were 'outed,' so I'm going to ask you again: are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I have to be. Zelenka can't swim and Miko doesn't have the field experience to handle this."

"What about Swinton?"

"Oh please, he doesn't have the necessary technical background; he'd take way too long to get anything useful done and I'd probably have to go fix it anyway. Besides, he doesn't have the gene and we may need a gene carrier for this to work." He scoffed, hoping the tone hid his nerves from his friend.

"DeBoer has the gene and could accompany him," Sheppard responded immediately and Rodney straightened and looked over at the man.

"Look, please don't take this the wrong way, because I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I am the best qualified for this mission and am not about to risk other people's lives just because of a stupid personal fear of swimming in public." His voice rose in pitch at the end of his declaration but he ignored that fact and toed off his shoes.

"It's not a stupid fear," Sheppard's voice was pitched low, and almost menacing. It was the tone he used when he was seriously mad about something and Rodney looked over at him quickly to make sure that he wasn't about to get shot.

"What?" He stammered and John uncrossed his arms and leaned over him, his stance angry and tense.

"It is not a stupid fear." He repeated slowly, enunciating each word as if Rodney was the dunce of the class and not the most brilliant man in two galaxies.

"Maybe not," Rodney conceded, though he didn't believe it and he could tell John didn't either, "but I'm still not going to let it get in the way of my duty. I'll be fine. Just fine. There is absolutely nothing to worry about," he insisted and looked away when he sounded more questioning than confident.

It was stupid, though. He was being stupid, like a kid. He knew there was nothing to fear here in Atlantis. Hell, he'd known for a while now, what with everyone's support and Carson never stepping outside of Rodney's comfort zones when examining his gills. He was well aware by now that he was safe here, that he could trust his friends and even the general population (at least to a certain extent) with his life long secret. He'd even gone swimming with his team off the coast of the mainland and used his gills, several times.

But Sheppard was still looking at him as though waiting to be convinced that he was really okay with this.

"What? You want me to post a memo saying that I'll willingly, and without resignation, use my gills in public for the betterment of man kind?" He snapped, suddenly irritated and Sheppard stood straight again and smirked at him.

"Could I get it in gold print?" Rodney glared and opened his mouth to tell Sheppard exactly how he was going to get it when he was interrupted by Zelenka telling them that they were ready to depart once he and Sheppard arrived. It was all the reminder Rodney needed to change into his swim trunks and then, being careful to keep his back away from Sheppard's watchful eyes, he peeled on his wet suit as quickly as possible. On the off chance that there might be bruising on his back, he didn't want the Colonel to see and decide that Rodney needed a check up before going on this mission. There wasn't any time for that, and if Rodney's eyes maybe watered up when he was pushing his arm through the sleeve he hid it by staring at the floor.

Without further ado they headed off to Atlantis's only available jumper.

oooOOOooo

Zelenka sat straight in his seat, looking into the back of the jumper as they waited for McKay and Sheppard to show up. It was just typical of the scientist, he thought without rancour, to demand they all be there early and then barely show up on time himself. Still, the day Rodney began to do things to other people's schedules was the day Radek began to truly worry about him. Besides, it was rather enjoyable watching Miko try not to stare too obviously at the big, muscular Corporal that was checking the stores in the upper cabinets at the back of the jumper. When he finally finished with all the stretching and posing he sat down on the bench seat to wait in silence.

"Everything is secure?" Radek asked him, creating some conversation as Miko hurriedly looked back to her computer.

"It is. The only way the water is going to get to any of those supplies is if we blow a hole through them." He acknowledged, glancing briefly at Miko before deciding that he should apparently double check his scuba gear. Radek hid a grin and stood to stretch himself, looking at the view out the front windshield.

"You parked on the balcony!" McKay's shrill exclamation suddenly cut through the air and Radek found himself quickly smothering a grin before turning around to see the science and military leads of the city walk into the jumper. Rodney was scowling and glancing around as though he expected to see some sort of interior damage due to the Colonel's parking job.

"Of course. Where did you think I was going to put it?"

"Oh I don't know, the ground maybe?"

"And haul Ronon all the way up to Carson?" Sheppard's eyebrow did that raising thing that it always did and Radek was beginning to suspect that the Colonel had as little control over them as he did his hair. "I don't think so."

"He is heavy man," Radek quickly agreed.

"When I care about what you think I'll ask," Rodney responded distractedly, already setting up his computer.

"When I don't care about what you think, you tell me anyway," Radek's smirk was ignored and Rodney didn't comment, instead taking his seat at the front of the jumper. Radek looked to the Colonel, trying to ask if Rodney was okay without saying the words. The Colonel gave a tight nod before slipping into his own seat.

"Don't make me turn this jumper around you two," he threatened before informing the control room that they were ready to go. Miko, oddly enough, had blushed when the two entered the jumper, and went quickly back to her work instead of greeting them. Radek watched her a moment and then focused on his own work as the Colonel smoothly flew them off the balcony.

For once Rodney didn't flinch as the jumper slid under the water, too absorbed in his task to notice as they slowly sank beneath the city. Radek himself had never had much difficulty becoming involved in his work, even under stressful situations. His thoughts always flowing easily and organized, but it still sometimes surprised him how well he could _finally _work with others.

It wasn't that he had worked with stupid people before, but he'd sometimes found it frustrating with how long it took them to accomplish tasks or comprehend what he was trying to say. Joining the SGC had placed him with colleagues of, perhaps, a higher calibre? But here, with Rodney and Miko, it still astounded him how easily they could work together, despite the occasional leaps in logic that Rodney would make without explanation, or when the man just wouldn't listen to others.

Today was no exception to any of these things. But at least the only time Rodney hadn't really been forthcoming with information was with how he had managed to actually land the city without being thrown over the control room balcony.

"Okay, we're approaching the damaged section," the Colonel announced and Radek looked away from his monitors to the window. They had travelled deep enough that the sun light was no longer bright enough to see by. The fact that they were positioned more underneath the city than along its side gave the entire area an dark, dismal kind of look. At least until Sheppard turned on the exterior lights.

"We need to go down another seventy feet," Radek announced, looking back at his readings as Sheppard made the adjustments.

"It is not a very big access area," Miko said softly as she looked out the window herself. Radek looked up to see that she was right. The city wall was mostly smooth, but the Ancients didn't seem to have taken any care into making the underside of the city as beautiful as the topside or interior. The metal plates that made up the wall were massive, but it was clear where they had been securely attached together. Long rectangular crevices traveled vertically, disappearing above and below them, their depths varying. In the spaces between the crevices were large, vent-like openings. They were located all over the hull of the ship to allow access to systems that were unreachable from inside.

Radek looked at Rodney who was staring at the openings, paler than usual even in the Jumper's dim interior. Sheppard noticed too and his eyes narrowed as he looked over at Rodney.

"McKay? You about ready to do this?" He asked and there was something in his tone that was saying more than the simple words. Rodney stared a moment longer before looking over at the Colonel and snorting in a rather undignified way.

"Would it be pretentious of me to say I was born ready?"

"Not for this, no." The Colonel grinned.

"Hysterical." Rodney glared, but it was only half hearted as he looked quickly back out the window and then stood quickly. "Well, I'd better get going then, while the power levels aren't high enough to kill me."

"All I ever hear is doom and gloom," Radek looked over at his friend.

"Being a realist isn't a crime." Rodney moved past them and then paused, turning to look slowly between Miko and Radek. Then he snapped his fingers as though he had just had an epiphany. "But it's good to stay positive," he announced abruptly and Radek heard Sheppard turn in his seat to take in the three of them. "And you are, Radek. Always positive that is," Rodney continued and then looked at Miko. "It's a great trait, don't you think? It's important to have someone around who isn't always going to be pointing out the negative and such." And he waved his hand in the air as if it would help convey whatever message he was trying to get across.

Radek blinked. "Umm, thank you?"

"Yeah, no problem," and he snapped his fingers and pointed at Radek again. "Good guy." He nodded decisively and then disappeared into the back of the jumper where DeBoer was waiting. Radek looked over at Miko and Sheppard.

"What was that about?" he asked them in general. Miko, looking confused, just shrugged and went back to her work. Sheppard smirked with his irritating _I know something you don't _manner before turning back to his controls. Logging the behaviour away for examination later, because it was never nothing with McKay, even if it was truly bizarre, he went back to work.


	6. I Can't Hear Stupidity

**Chapter 6: I Can't Hear Stupidity**

The churning pit of dread that had been residing in his stomach since this entire disaster began was once again vying for his attention, gnawing away in little nervous bites that did nothing to calm him. He looked to the front of the jumper, seeing Miko and Radek hunched over their equipment, diligently preparing to assist him with repairs from within the ship. John was preoccupied with raising the jumper to a depth that was suitable for Rodney to enter the ocean at, and Rodney could already see the water outside beginning to lighten as they ascended. He turned away quickly, he had his own preparations to take care of.

"Here Doctor," the gigantic soldier in front of him held out an earpiece and McKay took it carefully, turning it over in his hands. "It's been modified for you, shouldn't give you problems in the water," DeBoer announced and then gestured to his own ear, as though Rodney needed help figuring out where it went. He glared at the man and shoved the thing into place. He barely noticed the cool material against his warmer skin; he was so used to having radios in his ear he sometimes felt awkward without them.

Awkward, there was an excellent adjective to use while standing here, zipped up from ankles to wrists to neck in neoprene that was squeezing him so tightly he felt like it was trying to suck him into its own black hole. His left arm throbbed angrily. How the hell DeBoer looked so comfortable in his own suit Rodney had no idea, but the man walked around as if he was born in the thing. Damn Selkie. He scowled at the man who had just turned his back on him, and then reached down to pick up his throat mic from the jumper's padded bench seat. When he looked back up the man was watching him again.

"Can I help you with that?" He asked and Rodney huffed, waving him off.

"I think I can handle a simple radio, thank you." He pulled the zipper of his suit down a bit and peeled the neoprene from its snug place against his neck. And of course, he quickly realized that holding the material (that was determined to strangle him) out of the way long enough to properly wrap the mic's strap around his neck _and_ secure it in place was more complicated than he'd anticipated. The black elastic kept slipping from between his fingers every time he tried to create some room and, after a few seconds of struggling he looked back over at DeBoer. The big man stepped forward without being asked and, without a hint of smugness or smirk, helped him attach the small piece of equipment and rezip his suit.

Rodney would have been able to do it himself if his arm didn't bother him so much. Really.

"Is that thing going to even work underwater?" Sheppard's voice suddenly broke the silence that had blanketed the jumper and Rodney looked over to find the man leaning in the partition between the front and the back, eyeing his neck.

"Of course it is," Rodney resisted the urge to rub at the point where the tiny receiver was resting against his vocal chords, and Sheppard frowned a bit.

"You sure? Because I don't recall doing any tests and those things typically work best with _air_ passing through your vocal cords," the implied _not water_ was easy to hear. Of course, Sheppard wouldn't know any better, because no one had thought to ask Rodney for tests like that yet and he sure as hell hadn't offered to participate in any.

"I'm sure," he found himself snapping automatically, "and tests have proved it," he added, in case Sheppard needed a little more assurance. Rodney didn't feel any better when John's posture stiffened and his gaze sharpened a moment before he nodded and the subject was dropped. Rodney instantly felt bad, and to avoid dealing with those emotions he stomped over to where his fins were and sat down, gingerly, to put them on.

"I have some concerns about the water temperature," DeBoer spoke up, breaking the sudden tension in the room and Rodney looked up to find the big man glancing carefully between him and Sheppard. Great, maybe Rodney should just walk up and slap Sheppard to make this day complete. He sighed when John suddenly looked even more upset (in his stoic, non-concerned way that didn't fool anyone).

"What do you mean?" he asked the soldier and Rodney sighed, cutting in and answering for him.

"What he means is that, while we are in a decidedly tropical part of the ocean, the water is still very cold beneath the surface," he rolled his eyes at the concern and DeBoer frowned at him.

"Even in tropical waters prolonged exposure can lead to hypothermia. At this depth Dr. McKay will be exposed to temperatures that are cool enough to become a serious issue if he is exposed to them for too long."

"How long?" Sheppard asked, looking even more unhappy now.

"Look, in this case it doesn't matter how long," Rodney cut in, ignoring the looks the two men gave him. "The city gives off a lot of heat, enough that the water immediately surrounding her is probably warmer than the most tropical beach on the planet. I run no risk of hypothermia whatsoever," he turned back to putting his second flipper on, finding the damn things more annoying than the last time he'd worn them.

"Is true," Zelenka helpfully piped up from the front, "so long as he doesn't go further than three meters from city."

"What he said," Rodney waved in the Czech's direction.

"I'm aware of that, but you should know that you're at a higher risk than most because of how you-"

"Yes yes," Rodney quickly interrupted DeBoer, "and normally I'd agree with you but seeing as I'll be breathing warm water-"

"It will be like temperature of lukewarm coffee," Zelenka again cut in from the front.

"Would you focus on your job please, and let me explain," Rodney yelled up at him and ignored the muttered comments that carried back to them. "It's still a moot point," he finished, as though he'd never been interrupted. Sheppard frowned, looking between them.

"Okay, we'll go ahead with the mission," he declared, _as though there was a choice at this point_ Rodney thought despairingly, "but if you begin to feel the effects of the cold then you will come back into the jumper to warm up."

"Oh please, as if-"

"This is not a negotiation, McKay. If you become dangerously cold you will come back and warm up or I'll send DeBoer in after you," the man focused his green-brown gaze on Rodney like a laser and Rodney had no choice but to comply. There were times you just didn't argue with Sheppard.

"Fine, but I'm telling you it won't be an issue." He folded his arms across his chest and Sheppard nodded.

"When you're ready then," the Colonel waved a hand at the jumper's rear exit before moving back to the front. Rodney watched him a moment and then turned to find DeBoer double checking his SCUBA gear one last time.

"What are you doing? You're not coming with me," Rodney declared and the big man's piercing blue eyes met his.

"I am aware of that Doctor, but I am going to be in the back of the jumper when you depart, as back up." _In case I panic,_ Rodney thought and looked down at his body. He gently ran his fingers along one of the openings along his waist, feeling the edge of neoprene that circled his gills. His flesh looked pale and sickly against the black of his suit, his gills standing out all the more blatantly. He instantly felt uneasy, remembering how exposed he was in this outfit. He swallowed thickly.

"Do you need someone to double check your equipment," he asked, trying to distract himself but DeBoer shook his head, goggles already firmly in place. "Okay, great." He muttered, cringing at how unsure he sounded. "Sheppard, we're ready when you are," he called out loudly, seeing Miko jump in her seat.

"Okay," Sheppard announced, looking back over his shoulder to check on Rodney one more time, which would have been touching if Rodney just didn't want to get this over with as fast as possible. When the doors closed Sheppard gave them a five second countdown before slowly opening the jumper doors, allowing the water to spill in gradually.

It was cold, but the wetsuit certainly helped with that and Rodney quickly found himself standing on his tiptoes as the water chillingly rose past his neck. DeBoer had already gone under and was no doubt watching him carefully, an alert, perfect soldier. Except there was no such thing as perfect and Rodney couldn't hold off any more.

He took a breath and sank under the surface, instantly opening his eyes and allowing them to adjust to the new stimulus. There, only four feet away was the Dutchman, the emergency regulator for his tank firmly in hand and ready to shove into Rodney's mouth should he need it. Rodney blinked at him, and the man held up his free hand in a thumbs up gesture, asking if he was okay.

No matter how many times Rodney did this (so much more in his youth than the past years), it was never easy to force the last breath of air from his lungs and then inhale the heavy water in. For a brief moment, every time, he thought he might drown, that his gills would fail him, and then he felt the water bypass his lungs all together, forcing its way through his body and pressing out his gills. He always felt the first breath filter through him.

The second thing he always noticed, once the initial momentary panic ebbed, was taste, and it was as terrible as he remembered it being back when he swam those two times with his team. The briny water attacked every one of his taste buds with a vengeance and he took a moment to not gag on reflex, until his mouth actually numbed enough to not notice it anymore. Across from him DeBoer was now waving his hand around, demanding McKay answer his thumbs up sign before he decided to take matters into his own hand. Rodney waved him off and turned to the bench that had the bag with his tools and the water proof computer he was bringing along. A quick check told him everything was working.

"McKay? Do you copy?" the sudden quiet, and slightly muffled sound came through his ear piece. It was a little difficult to discern who was on the other end, but he knew it was Sheppard.

"I copy. Do you copy?" he responded, hearing his own voice muffled in his head. He groped around for the flashlight that had fallen onto the floor as the water rushed in, finding it quickly. His eyes had adapted to the water completely by now, and though the colours in the jumper were tinted differently than he was used to, he could see clearly. DeBoer was watching him carefully, his eyes wide behind his mask. Rodney looked away from him.

"We hear you, McKay," Sheppard responded and McKay nodded to himself and moved to the open hatch, reaching out to grip the edge and look around. It was a long and dark descent into the water, the city's dark grey wall disappearing into a blurred blackness that did nothing to calm his nerves. Okay, he had to do this. Atlantis was at stake here, more people could be hurt, and it was his job to fix this. His. So he'd better move his ass.

"Right," he swallowed thickly, adjusting to speaking around water. "Well, I'm off to save your collective asses again," he announced. "Try not to break anything else while I'm out here."

"Sure thing McKay, we'll wait until you get back," Sheppard responded, and was it fair that Rodney could hear the man's drawl even through water? There was something just odd about that. Rodney nodded to himself and, with a final deep breath to try and chase away the fear of swimming into the (mostly) unknown, he pushed off.

oooOOOooo

When McKay reported that he was ten meters past the jumper's hovering depth Sheppard closed the ship's hatch and quickly drained the water. There was no concern over DeBoer and decompression sickness as he hadn't been in the water more than four minutes. Despite this once the back of the jumper was empty Sheppard kept the door between the front and the back closed and set the pressure in the back for a five minute decompression program that they'd set up before hand, just in case.

Then he gently turned the jumper to chase McKay slowly down the side of Atlantis.

McKay wasn't there.

His throat tightened, his heartbeat sped up, and words that he'd never say out loud even in impolite company flooded his mind. He immediately urged the jumper to _move_ towards the inky darkness below them. The ship's headlights brightened further, reflecting off the dull metal hull of Atlantis without him consciously asking them to. It was only four seconds later, when he had been on the verge of demanding to know where McKay was, that the man's green flippers suddenly reflected in the light. The rest of him instantly followed. He was hugging closely to the wall with one arm outstretched, holding his flashlight ahead of him, the other arm tucked close to his side. John could barely see the flashlight's beam, which had him remembering a lecture he'd once overheard about the poor level of light filtration this ocean allowed. Or maybe it was just that the darkness was so complete.

John let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, and leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge to worriedly run a hand over his face. He had a serious problem if McKay, being out of sight for only ten seconds, caused him to panic that much. Then again, this wasn't exactly a normal situation, so maybe he was allowed a brief moment of insanity. When he heard shifting beside him he turned to find Zelenka watching him from behind his glasses. Then the man blinked and looked away.

"Rodney is fast swimmer," was all he said and Sheppard looked back out the windshield, watching as the man in question cut through the water like a freaking dolphin, his fins kicking powerfully behind him. He hadn't even paused to look back at them once the jumper had provided him with light, making the darkness below them even more prominent. John was struck for a moment by the sheer boldness of the pace Rodney had picked, by the understanding that Rodney had forced himself to do this fast because he was probably afraid that his nerves would get the best of him and he'd turn around.

Which was complete bull, because Rodney had a mission and, despite how much he might absolutely hate it, Rodney had never backed down from a task unless there were no other options.

John really, really, hated days like these.

"Sheppard to Atlantis," he called, absently noting that Miko was typing behind him at a tempo that could probably match McKay.

"Go ahead, Colonel," Elizabeth immediately answered, sounding a bit anxious over the open line but, considering the situation, it was to be expected.

"McKay's in the water, we're on approach to the damaged area."

"Understood," there was a brief pause, "how's he doing?"

"If he moves any faster the jumper's engines might overheat," he commented, grinning at the snort Zelenka let loose.

"So in other words you'll arrive sooner than expected," she announced over the radio and he agreed with her assessment.

"Anything I need to be aware of on the home front?" he asked and, when the pause was a bit longer than he'd been expecting he tensed up again, because having another emergency to deal with right now was not going to be good at all.

"No Colonel, nothing that you need to be aware of. We'll debrief once your mission is accomplished."

"Understood, Sheppard out." He understood all right. From her tone, something else had gone wrong but it was being dealt with, and there was nothing he could do to help until they completed this mission and had Rodney safely back aboard.

Outside the jumper McKay had slowed down his approach, and behind John the door slid open to allow DeBoer access to the front of the room again. The big man, still donned in his wetsuit but without the rest of his underwater gear, remained where he stood, silently watching over them all.

"The site we are looking for is still another thirty feet down," Miko informed him as they watched Rodney slow even more. From this distance he looked like he was examining the wall.

"McKay, this is Sheppard," he watched as the man actually startled, his head jerking a bit and then reach forward to, apparently, adjust his ear piece.

"Yes, what is it?" came back the muffled, almost too quiet response in his ear. Sheppard jiggled his own radio, making sure it was still seated properly.

"We're still about thirty feet from our destination," In the water McKay actually looked back at them and glared, his hair floating around his head like a halo. "You know I can't actually see you glaring at me from this distance," Sheppard lied and Rodney shook his head before turning back to the wall. He pushed off a second later, his body twisting carefully before he started swimming again. He looked stiff. Sheppard frowned, wondering if he should have insisted Rodney see a doctor, or at least a medic, before they did this.

"Yes, Colonel, I'm..ware..ill..awa..from..ou..get," he responded brokenly, though the irritation was still clear. Was it fair that, even speaking under water, McKay could sound irritated?

"McKay, can you repeat that, you're not clear." Sheppard requested and looked at Zelenka who was watching Rodney. McKay's response was about the same as before and Sheppard looked sharply at Zelenka, because this was not acceptable.

"He's not coming through clearly," he announced, obviously.

"We shall put him on jumper speakers then," Zelenka decided and did so without waiting for a response from Sheppard either way. Sheppard waited expectantly and then, after a moment, Zelenka nodded at him.

"McKay, do you copy?"

"I've always been able to hear you. You better have fixed the problem on your end Sheppard or next ladies night the women will have a pin up of you in a speedo." His voice came through the speakers, still slightly muffled but clear. Sheppard heard a strangled choking coming from the only woman present and, rolled his eyes.

"I don't own a speedo, McKay," he pointed out, nodding at Radek to acknowledge the fixed systems. The man was grinning widely at him, which was a bit…creepy.

"No, you don't. But I distinctly remember P4X 521 and their ceremonial dance." Oh shit, Sheppard felt his ears begin to burn at the memory. That had been over a year ago! He had completely forgotten…

"That wasn't a speedo, it was a ceremonial loin…covering. And if I recall you had to wear one as well," he returned, trying to save face with the three people he knew were staring at him now even as he adjusted the jumper against the current. Then Miko's typing began again in earnest.

"Yes, and if you recall, I was the only one who brought a camera that day," the scientist's muffled voice still managed to sound smug.

"We'll discuss this later, McKay," Sheppard let a bit of command slip into his tone, deciding that now would be a good time to halt this conversation before Zelenka began asking questions and DeBoer started taking notes.

"He is approaching the site," Miko announced and Sheppard quickly passed on the information, though Rodney had already slowed down his descent again. Pulling the jumper a bit further away from the city wall Sheppard levelled out, looking at the water temperature readings to make sure Rodney hadn't been lying about that.

Rodney was floating around the openings they had looked at earlier, examining the edges more closely before he suddenly just squeezed himself through and disappeared from sight. Again.

"McKay! What's your status?" He demanded instantly, feeling the tension in the cabin rise the instant the man had vanished.

"I'm just on the other side of the slats. Didn't you see me go through?"

"We saw you, McKay. A little warning next time, please?" Sheppard spit out through clenched teeth. Honest to god, for a man who was always so concerned about his own skin he occasionally showed a remarkable lack of comprehension for protecting it. Outside the jumper, in full illumination from the lights, Rodney stuck an arm and his head back through the slates and waved at them in annoyance.

"There, see? I'm safe. Now, if you don't mind, I think there was something I was supposed to be doing. What was it again?" he disappeared back inside. "Why did I just swim all the way down here? It had something to do with…" there was a pause and what Sheppard thought might have been a grunt, but it was hard to tell with this mic, "saving lives I think." Sheppard looked at Zelenka and the man frowned at him, which told John he wasn't the only one that heard the tension in McKay's voice.

"Yes, Rodney, you are acting as mechanical merman to save us all from certain doom," Zelenka announced, throwing the perfect amount of sarcasm into it.

"Excuse me?" Rodney paused again, which most definitely meant that he was working on assessing the damages even as Radek teased him.

"You heard me, or maybe your underwater hearing is even worse than when on dry land, hmm?"

"I have trouble hearing stupidity, you'll have to speak louder," was the irritated reply and then Radek and Miko were suddenly sitting taller in their seats, staring intently at their displays. Sheppard, not liking this separation from McKay at all, moved the jumper so close to the wall it was practically kissing it. Shifting the angle slightly allowed him to just see through the slats, but it was deep in there, dark, and he could barely make out the light of McKay's flashlight some ten meters away. It wasn't the easiest position to hold, seeing as the current at this depth was actually stronger than he'd anticipated, but he made it work for him.

His entire body felt as tense as a bowstring, he could only imagine how McKay was doing out there, surrounded by a dark, enclosed space that was underwater to boot.

"Are you getting this?" the Canadian's disembodied voice carried through their own enclosed space as Sheppard still tried to watch him through the slats.

"Miko?" Radek asked her for confirmation.

"Yes, I am receiving," she instantly replied.

"We are getting all data, Rodney. Looks as though power is not increasing any faster."

"Good. Let me know if that changes."

"What are you looking at?" Radek asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose. Sheppard took a peek at his display and, having no idea what the hell he was looking at, looked back out to McKay. He could just see the man moving around.

He adjusted the ship against the current again.

"It's a mess down here. There are systems that are exposed that should have never been exposed. There's a few crystal panels, nothing seems burnt out, but I'm going to have to go around a few systems…" there was a pause, and it lasted a minute longer than Sheppard was comfortable with before Rodney came back. "It's going to take a while. Keep me updated," he ordered and Radek nodded despite Rodney not being able to see him.

After a few minutes of relative quiet DeBoer got up and retreated to the back, no doubt to find something to occupy himself while they waited. It used to be that John would get edgy if he had to sit around doing nothing for too long. It was funny how one's perspective could change, because only a few years in Atlantis had overcome an entire lifetime of impatience. Now, quiet time was good time. It meant that nothing was going wrong yet. He could live with that.

After half an hour of silence and the occasional acknowledging grunt from one of the two scientists Sheppard changed his mind. Who was he trying to kid? He was just as impatient as ever.

"Sooo…" he started, watching as Radek looked at him briefly before getting back to work without comment. Right, he could take a hint. He didn't say anything more, except for occasionally forcing McKay to acknowledge him. Getting words out of them right now was like trying to pull teeth, and Sheppard was not a dentist.

Of course, at the forty-three minute mark that all changed in an instant when both Zelenka and Miko suddenly stopped working and Rodney finally decided to break his silence.

"We might have a problem," he announced abruptly on the overhead speakers.

"Might?"

"Okay, we _definitely _have a problem." He reiterated, and the clarification didn't make Sheppard feel any better. Not at all.

oooOOOooo

J


	7. Safety Belts

**Notes:** Hi everyone! There was a technical glitch at fanfiction. net that wasn't allowing us to update for a few days. We apologize for this and hope you're still with us :D

**Chapter 7: Safety Belts**

"Rodney," Zelenka warned, fear suddenly tightening his chest as he looked at the readings on his monitor. This was not right. This should not be happening.

"I know!" Rodney yelled back, or at least Zelenka thought he yelled back as his voice came though at the same pitch as before. The fear, however, was unmistakable.

"What? What's happening?" The Colonel demanded though his eyes were intent on the window, still trying to see Rodney through the wall.

"I am unsure," Zelenka responded even as he tried to concentrate on his work. "The power is building up again where it should not be."

"Dr. McKay, you are dangerously close to the secondary condenser," Kusanagi spoke out sharply, nothing of her natural meekness shining through. Zelenka swallowed thickly when he realized how right she was. It hadn't been a serious issue before because the charge build up they were trying to prevent was deeper in the city's wall and separate from the systems they were working with, despite their similarities.

"I know!" McKay responded and, after a few tense moments said nothing more. Zelenka could read the fluctuating power flow on his screen, watching as Rodney worked with incredible speed to try and reroute more energy.

"A condenser? You mean a capacitor?" Sheppard looked between his controls and Radek and Radek took a deep breath.

"Yes. Atlantis has hundreds of them strategically placed throughout entire city to help with energy storage."

"If they are all over the city then why aren't they storing all this excess energy that's causing the problems in the first place?" Sheppard wanted to know and, frankly, Radek would like to know that as well. He really would.

"At this point we are unsure. We have a team trying to figure this out in labs right now." At least they had ordered a team to figure it out, whether or not it had happened yet was another question, what with the mess they had left the place in. "Rodney has been shunting energy through systems that would normally not carry such high electrical charge, to sub-circuits for it to be decoupled and rerouted in the return path. But he has been doing so in controlled bursts so that it should not be dangerous."

"Doctors," Kusanagi interrupted his explanation opening communications with Rodney again, "the energy is rapidly building to dangerous levels in this sector."

"How long do we have?" McKay demanded.

"Approximately four minutes," she announced and Radek felt his stomach drop. It was not enough time. Rodney swore once.

"Okay," the scientist announced. "There is no way to prevent this explosion, because apparently today is just not my day, but it can be contained. We need to prevent the displacement field from reaching the capacitors deeper in the city…" and Radek instantly understood what he was saying. He did not like this idea at all, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"What happens if it reaches those capacitors?"

"Worst case scenario is a chain reaction that will cause much damage to the city," Radek was hammering out instructions on his computer, telling Atlantis to disconnect from all systems within their area.

"Colonel," Rodney's disembodied voice filled the Jumper again. "You need to activate the shield and retreat to a safe distance," he ordered and Radek stopped what he was doing, looking over at John, who had been paying close attention to the proceedings.

"What about you?"

"I'll swim to cover as soon as possible. It should only take me another minute to finish up here."

"That is being optimistic," Radek snapped, looking over and meeting Sheppard's eyes. He shook his head at the American and Sheppard whipped around to glare in the general vicinity of Rodney.

"That's a negative, McKay. I understand that you guys are trying to contain the explosion, but it's still going to hit that one capacitor just behind the wall there."

"It won't be that big of an explosion Colonel," Rodney snapped overhead. "I'll have plenty of time to find cover."

"From the blast, yes, from the blast concussion, no. We're waiting McKay, so hurry your ass up," Sheppard snarled into his radio and Radek looked away, not wanting to see the angry red climbing the man's neck.

"One minute!" Miko announced, her fingers flying. Radek distantly heard her update Atlantis on the situation.

"Colonel, you must prepare to raise shields. If this works, then explosion will be right here, and it will cause damage to jumper even with shields raised."

"Understood," he responded grimly. "McKay!"

"Just a second! This is a hell of a lot harder than rocket science you know!"

"I want everyone buckling in," Sheppard ordered, backing the jumper a few meters from the wall, giving Rodney space to get out.

"Thirty seconds," Miko announced. Zelenka finished his last commands and sat back, reaching around for the safety belts.

"McKay!" Sheppard snapped again, sounding like he was at the end of his rope.

"Okay! I'm coming!" and true to his word a few seconds later he was frantically squeezing through the slats of Atlantis and hastily swimming towards them. There was a problem though…

"There's no time to open the jumper!" Rodney yelled, the command that had been present in his voice earlier had given way to panic. Radek watched silently as his friend swam quickly to the jumper and then just plastered himself to the windshield, arms reaching above to grasp the windows edge and hold himself in place. He looked right through the window at John.

"Five seconds!" Miko cried out.

"Raise the shield!" Rodney yelled. Sheppard didn't hesitate, the brief blue shimmer of the shield wrapping around the jumper flashed briefly. Radek watched as Rodney jerked slightly, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then Atlantis exploded around them, sending the shuttle hurtling into the deep water.

oooOOOooo

He felt heavy. He wasn't aware of much more than that, and truthfully he didn't really want to be any more aware than that: he felt heavy, his limbs felt weighted down, and he wanted to slip back into the blankness that had existed before this all-encompassing lethargy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted…

"Colonel?" The darkness he had been heading back to was blasted out of his reach as a piercingly loud voice cut into his head. He groaned in response to the screaming of his rank, and then almost choked as he tried to swallow, his tongue sticking to the roof of his dry mouth.

"Colonel Sheppard? I think he's coming around," the deep voice announced, booming in his ears and John found himself wincing in response, which made his face ache almost unbearably. Then, without any warning, there was a light trying to burn his eyes out of their sockets and he swore, loudly. He hadn't realised his eyes had been open.

"Doc, could you keep the light out of his face, please?" The same voice ordered as John lifted his arm, which was lighter than it had felt when he first woke up, to block the shining. The glare was gone before he could accomplish his task.

"Yes, of course. My apologies, Colonel," the accented voice said, not as loudly as the other man, and John recognized it as belonging to Zelenka. He dropped his arm to his chest. He was lying down, and that it was on something hard. Huh. He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly to contain the tears that briefly gathered, and squinted towards the doctor. Zelenka was kneeling by his side, but he was difficult to see in the semi-darkness, the beam of his flashlight now directed more towards the floor and John's chest.

In the sudden, hollow silence around him he heard the rapid tap-tap-tap of a keyboard coming from somewhere behind him. What the hell was going on? He looked down the length of his body and immediately recognized, even in the dim lighting, the rear hatch of a puddle jumper. Puddle jumper? Why were they- Oh shit!

He lurched to his side, trying to gather his arms beneath him so he could push up, when two hands the size of shovels suddenly covered his chest, forcing him to remain in place. They were more effective than a boulder.

"Easy, Colonel," the booming voice from before was back, though it wasn't nearly as loud as it had been when he'd first awoken. John looked over at Corporal DeBoer, doing the best to ignore the spiking pain the action caused in his face and neck, and glared at the man. It didn't seem to have too much of an effect as the hands remained where they were.

"What happened?" he ground out instead, deciding that maybe he'd try to get up again once the dizziness settled a bit.

"You tried to fly jumper with your face, Colonel. Very inspiring though not as effective as you were probably hoping," Zelenka grumbled from beside him and Sheppard closed his eyes briefly, blocking out the light. "Perhaps next time you tell people to put on safety belts you will follow your own advice?" If it wasn't for the concern blatantly apparent in the reprimand John might have told Zelenka exactly what he could do with the safety belts. As it was he wasn't going to continue lying around.

"Help me up," he ordered and DeBoer frowned, looking like he was going to deny the request. John glared again, and this time the man didn't hesitate, shifting his hands to John's arms and helping him sit up and lean against the jumper's bench. John closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath and willing the sudden, stabbing pain in his brain to go away. When he felt better he looked towards the front of the jumper. It was mostly dark up there as well, except for the light that was glowing off on one side. He remembered Kusanagi sitting there before. His eyes drifted to the jumper's window, noting that it almost looked like it was pitch black out there, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Rodney!" he hissed, panic flooding through his entire body like ice and he pulled himself up the bench and to his feet so fast that for a moment his vision blacked out.

"Colonel!" DeBoer warned, grabbing him beneath his armpits to prevent him from falling over. John forced himself to take a deep, steady breath, and then ignored his pain as his mind finally caught up to their situation. With his balance steadied he stepped away from the soldier and turned to face the two men before him. He finally saw how pale Zelenka was, even in the dim light.

"Is anyone hurt?" He demanded, giving them both a quick once over.

"You were the only one injured, Colonel," Zelenka replied, adjusting the flashlight in his hand.

"Where's Rodney?" He asked again, after he determined that the man was not actually in the back of the jumper with him. He looked around again quickly, just to be sure.

"When the explosion hit he was safely between the shield and the jumper," Zelenka started, and then swallowed thickly. "But there was electrical interference with the explosion and it shorted out jumper's systems. The shields failed about a minute after the blast." The man pushed his glasses further up his nose, his hand shaking slightly, and John had to forcibly unclench his jaw as he understood what had happened.

"So he slid off the jumper then?"

"Yes. The shock of being so close to the shield when it activated, and then being directly exposed to it for a period of time probably caused him to lose consciousness for a short period."

"Probably?" He asked and Zelenka shrugged indecisively, worry clouding his features.

"It is also possible he lost consciousness because of blast itself. He was thrown into the shield and then bounced off the ship before the shield failed, and he disappeared."

Fuck.

Sheppard stared at Zelenka.

Fuck!

"So he's floating around out there, without protection, and possibly unconscious?" John had to make sure he understood completely, because this was bad. On the ultimate scale of good to bad, this was FUBAR. What the hell had Rodney gotten himself into now?

"We are fixing systems, but it will take a while and I doubt we will be able to fly jumper without proper overhaul but…"

"How long?" He cut the scientist off. He just needed a ball park, an idea of how long he'd have to twiddle his thumbs before he could go after McKay. Zelenka blinked at him.

"Hours."

Sheppard looked out at the black water surrounding them. They must be deep.

"Can we get to the surface?" An image of them resting on the bottom of the ocean, icy water flooding in to drown them as they waited for a rescue that couldn't come…

"We are maintaining depth now, but once repairs have been made we should be able to slowly rise to surface."

John nodded but didn't take his eyes from the windshield or the cold darkness beyond.

Rodney was out there somewhere. Alone.

John felt like a block of ice.

oooOOOooo


	8. Nothing

**Chapter 8: Nothing**

There were _things_, from when he'd been a child, that he would never be able to put behind him or forget. Things that he had had no control over, things that, no matter how he'd yelled, screamed, or cried had still happened. To him.

This was nothing like that.

And it was exactly the same.

Rodney opened his eyes to darkness.

For a moment time ceased to exist. He ceased to exist. Weightlessness and silence and _nothing_ was all that he knew, all that was and, possibly, all that ever was. How could anything else _be_ when there was only him? He was the centre of the universe. He was the centre of his universe. He was everything and nothing. He was.

_He was cold_. The thought erupted in his mind, flowing over the edges of bleak numbness to splash on the canvas of his entire being. He was cold, and it _hurt_. What was going on? Why was it so dark? Why was he so cold? He sucked in a deep panicked breath and realized with horror that he was breathing water, not air. Water. The cool liquid slid across his teeth and tongue, disappearing down his throat. He couldn't feel it flow through his body, the tips of his gill filaments fluttered as it drifted past, tickling them.

Oh god, he was under water. He was locked underwater with no way out. Why were they doing this? Why were they…just let him out! He didn't want to be here, they couldn't do this to him! They couldn't…

He lashed out with his body, kicking hard and thrashing with his arms when a blindingly intense pain literally stole the water from his gills. He folded in on himself, instinctively hugging his left arm to his chest and pulling his legs in as much as he could and he found it difficult to focus on anything but the pain. He whimpered when he finally had enough oxygen to do so, but he had no idea if any tears leaked from his eyes, the water absorbing them before they could truly form.

He didn't know how long he remained that way, his eyes shut tightly and his body just hovering where he was. He might have been rolling, tumbling so slowly that he couldn't tell. The water that surrounded him was heavy, a lot heavier than air and he could feel the slight pressure on his skin, but he wasn't lying on anything. No cool surfaces were pressed under his back, he wasn't scrunched into a glass walled corner, he wasn't lying still on the bottom of a lake, half tucked under a decaying log, silt stirring with every exhalation at his waist.

He was just floating.

This couldn't be good.

He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down and think. He cracked his eyes open again but this time the blackness had changed, it was lighter. He blinked at the massive wash of blue that surrounded him, and unclenched his body enough to look over his shoulder. The all consuming darkness was beneath him.

Oh no.

Oh no no no…

He couldn't see anything beneath him, and everything was just blue above him.

Where was he? How the hell…Atlantis...

With a shudder everything came back to him in a crashing wave. He remembered working on Atlantis's systems, the urgency of accomplishing his task outweighing his own safety for a few moments longer than was generally good for his health. He'd clung to the jumper's window desperately, clearly able to see everyone inside. He remembered looking right at John, and then the shield had gone up. His entire body becoming energized with a tingling current, shocking the breath out of him, overwhelming him, and then the blast had hit them.

He didn't remember anything after that. Not until now. He closed his eyes again, overwhelmed by the darkness and the blue blur that surrounded him. His head really hurt and focusing on nothing didn't help.

Okay, at this point his best course of action would be…to swim to the surface? Sure, that sounded like something he should do, but just the thought of moving right now had him whimpering slightly. He was momentarily thankful that nobody had heard that.

Wait. He opened his eyes wide again. Why couldn't they hear him? He reached up to his neck carefully, by now realizing that he must have managed to break his left arm. Considering how much it had been bothering him before the explosion he wasn't too surprised that the limb had snapped. He just really wished it hadn't.

His right hand, not as stiff as it probably should have been from the cold, groped around his neck, slipping on the exposed skin and the slick neoprene. He felt the slight bulge of his throat mic, still snugged into place beneath the material, and swallowed thickly in relief. He carefully stuck his finger into his ear, but there was no sign of the specialized hearing device. Great. Just great. So he could talk but he couldn't listen. And even though he could talk he had no idea if the radio even worked.

If he'd slipped off the jumper and been left alone like this, then something must have happened. Something bad. He swallowed convulsively. If the shields had failed they could be anywhere. They could be lost at the bottom of the ocean…

He looked down into the dark abyss and then quickly away. The darkness terrified him. He couldn't see anything down there, he had no idea what was swimming about. Whales! The panic flooded through, his body tensing, every aching muscle screaming and he looked up to the blue. He had to go up. He couldn't do anything suspended here in nothing, and the mere thought of swimming into the blackness to look for John and the jumper was just…he couldn't do it. It was ludicrous.

By all accounts Rodney should be dead.

Crushed, or blown up, or drowned. Any normal person would have been dead.

He blinked at the blue, and uncoiled his body even more, making sure to keep his left arm tucked into his chest, thankful that at least his suit was providing the limb with some support. Every movement jarred it despite that, sending little spiking pains that helped to mask the ache in the rest of his body. His tool belt jostled where it still sat on his hips, the clinking of the tools surprisingly loud in the complete silence that surrounded him. He tensed up again, because there was no way that wasn't creepy. He looked down at his body, his neck muscles protesting but he ignored it. He could barely see himself in the tinted glow, he was just a slightly lighter blur than the darkness below. At least he knew which way was up.

He was missing a fin.

"Great," he croaked, grimacing at the weakness of his voice, muffled by water.

He slowly began kicking to the surface. Using his good arm to pull himself up had pain flaring up his entire back and spreading through his shoulders, his injuries from before the explosion finally catching up to him in the worst way.

How long had he been unconscious? Floating around like a tasty morsel for any sea faring meat eater to gobble up like a…like a…like a freaking krill. He was going to die.

"In case you're wondering," he announced out to the water and, more specifically his mic, "I'm not dead. Not yet. But if you don't come and get me soon I can't promise anything." He tried not to sound too panicked, but he may not have tried too hard. It surely didn't matter at the moment whether he succeeded or not, because he was _lost at sea_!

He was entitled to a little panic here. Right? He nodded tightly to himself: yes he was entitled. He was very, very entitled!

Slowly the water became brighter. He began to see bits of floating things (that he tried to ignore) reflecting the light. He refused to look down into the darkness. He refused to believe that Sheppard and Zelenka couldn't hear him. No, they were all fine, even the giant Dutchman and Miko. And they might be stuck at the bottom of the ocean in the jumper, but it's not like it wasn't survivable. Rodney had lived, after all.

And Radek and Miko were there, which had to count for something, even if they weren't him.

But when he'd been trapped he'd been submersed in icy cold water for _hours_. He didn't think the others would be able to survive that…and DeBoer had been concerned about hypothermia before Rodney had even left the jumper. If they were stuck in a leaking jumper then they would succumb to the cold so much quicker…they would just fall asleep, freezing to death, and then they'd slip under the water and…

"If you can hear me," he announced abruptly, suddenly unable to continue his thoughts, "Then you should know I'm not going to die of hypothermia. At least, not any time soon." He announced, and looked up. He thought he could make out the surface above now. Maybe. It hurt his head to squint too much and at this point any extra pain was almost intolerable.

"I just thought you should know," he trailed off. He stopped swimming, sucking water in deeply. He was dizzy, which made him nauseous, as there was still nothing solid for him to focus on. He could feel a slight current in the water now, could feel the difference in temperature as he came closer to the surface.

"Not that the concern wasn't appreciated though," he looked up again, willing away the rolling in his stomach. He didn't remember ever throwing up in water, but the thought of his vomit floating all around him…ohh, he had better not be sick.

"It's just that the cold, at least in the water, doesn't bother me as much as it might you." He didn't want to keep swimming. He just wanted to rest. He thought about the dark depth beneath him, the alien silence and billions of gallons of water that surrounded him. He kicked out, feeling the drag on his flipper covered foot.

"Tests have proved it," he babbled, not really thinking any more, just trying to get to the surface. He was so tired. "Usually, it would be the lack of oxygen in the cold water that would get me first. Not here though. This planets water has a drastically higher oxygen concentration than earth…" which considering how deep he must have been was probably the only reason he hadn't suffocated while he'd been floating aimlessly.

"I guess it only makes sense that I would be this way, seeing as the body looses its heat about thirty-two times faster in the water, but that does not make me cold blooded…" He paused, trying not to grind his teeth from the pain. "…I don't think." Wait, what was he doing carrying on like that, telling them things? He shouldn't be doing that, he never did that! He focused on swimming again. His limbs felt so heavy, aching with every movement, sharp pains stabbing at him from all over, their focus point being his left arm. It hurt. The silence surrounding him wasn't helping; he couldn't even hear his own laboured breathing through the water. He'd never been very good with pain, or silence when it didn't involve work or sleep.

The silence that surrounded him now, the deep, muffled blend of absolutely nothing around him…this was a bad silence.

"You know, this wasn't the way I'd planned on spending my day," he had to pause again so he could catch his breath. At least he wasn't sinking, but would it hurt to be a little more buoyant? He supposed he could toss his tool belt, getting rid of the weight would no doubt send him to the surface faster. But it was such a small amount of weight, and…tools.

"I hate throwing out good equipment," he muttered. He reached up, his arm slicing through the water, and pulled down, feeling the drag pull at his fingers, and then he gave up using his arms all together. It hurt too much, and it would be put to better use supporting his broken limb. His ankle, the one with the flipper still attached, was beginning to ache as well. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the water brushing through his hair, the feel of it slowly warming as he jerkily cut through it.

And then, through the silence, he could finally hear the faint sound of water folding over on itself. He opened his eyes and looked up, relief flooding through him as he _finally_ saw the ripples and small swells above become clear, his vision deciphering the shapes with relief. A moment later he broke through the surface, the air cool on his face, and he drained his last breath of water and took a gulping breath of air. The dryness of it tickled his throat, irritated his nostrils, and he coughed harshly a moment as he adjusted to the change. The movement jarred his arm and he groaned, wanting to hunch over his injury, but instead he forced himself to look around.

The swells that surrounded him were a few feet high, the occasional one breaking a bit at the top, and he desperately tried to see further as he rose to the top of each one. Then, squinting into the sunlight, he looked around, and saw nothing. No Atlantian spires towering into the sky, no jumpers flying overhead searching for him. No birds. Nothing but water and sky and more water. For a few minutes he could only stare stupidly, twisting around in desperation to see any kind of landmark that would mean his safety. There was nothing, and the sun light reflecting off the water wasn't helping with the spiking pain in his head, and his nausea returned with a vengeance as he swayed with the waves.

He gave up the battle and threw up in the water, gagging at the acidic taste and ignoring the few tears that squeezed out of his eyes.

When he was finished the only comfort he had was that at least he didn't feel as nauseous any more.

He kicked away from his mess, swirling some saltwater and spitting it out to try and mask the taste on his tongue. He swam further away still, kicking slowly as he lay on his back, the sun warming his face. The small swells occasionally threatened to crumble on his head but he ignored them.

"This is not good," he said weakly, his voice caught in the slight breeze, sounding foreign and crisp in his surroundings.

"This is really, really not good," he said again, because it was worth repeating. He closed his eyes, the sun hurt his head too much and he didn't want to look around.

"Do you hear me? You can come and get me anytime now, you know? I really wouldn't mind…" water splashed over his forehead, running down his face and he held his breath until it passed.

"Because this whole situation here, with me in the ocean alone, is not good. Not that it would be better if someone were with me. It would probably be worse because they could drown…and then where would I be? The point is that I shouldn't be here." He took a few deep breaths trying to calm himself. It didn't really work.

"I really shouldn't be here," he declared again, desperate for someone to hear him. "This is not…this is…anything could be lurking about underneath me. Sharks!" His eyes flew open and he jerked up suddenly, crying out as the water swept at his injured arm. "There could be sharks! Are there sharks here? I can't remember…" why couldn't he remember? There wasn't anything they needed to fear around the Athosian settlement, the water there had been checked practically daily by the marine biologists, but the deep waters, way out here in the middle of nowhere…he couldn't remember any reports of this planet having sharks.

But it did have whales.

His eyes widened even further at the thought. He remembered the whale that had circled his jumper, frothing at the mouth as he sat uselessly inside.

"This isn't happening!" He denied, and looked around to check for whales. He sucked in a deep breath and slid underwater, looking around quickly, trying to catch sight of large gray masses with rows of teeth coming to swallow him whole. He kicked back to the surface, sucking in a breath of air, relieved that nothing seemed out to get him right now.

"But that doesn't mean it won't get me," he spoke quickly, looking around. "Anything could sneak up on me in a second and then _wham_, no more Canadian genius." He looked around suspiciously for surfacing fins to cut through the water, heading right for him.

"And then where would everyone be? Let's face it: You _need_ me people! You can't just leave me out here waiting for Moby-Dick to swim up from underneath…I won't even see him coming…He Is Going To Eat Me!" He yelled out, and then sank back into the waves as his vision went a bit spotty and exhaustion overwhelmed him. He forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly, five seconds in, five seconds out, until the spots behind his eyelids disappeared.

He waited, just floating there, feeling every ache and pain, unable to escape and knowing that at this point he couldn't do anything to help himself. He was completely vulnerable.

He hated being vulnerable.

Vulnerability led to more pain.

He took a few more minutes to just breathe, imagining Sheppard looking at him with that stupid raised eyebrow, waiting for his freak-out to end so they could get back to the issue at hand: Which was him, lost in the ocean, and Sheppard and the others, quite possibly lost beneath the ocean as well.

He looked around, the only sound was the lapping water, and there was no sign of whales or sharks or anything else that posed an immediate threat to him.

"Okay," he huffed out softly. "Okay, I'll be okay." He took another deep breath. "I'll be okay, and they'll be okay and Atlantis will be fine. Everything is just fine." He paused. "Sheppard, you people had better be okay, because if you're not…I'll…" he lost his train of thought, his headache pounding away in his skull, his arm screaming at him, his back threatening to cramp up on him. A wave crashed over his head again, and this time some got into his mouth, going down the wrong way and he coughed.

Maybe he would just float here for a while. Catch his breath.

"I'm still here," he announced. It might be ridiculous but he liked to think that John could hear him, that he had some kind of connection beyond his watery hell. "I'm just not going to be talking for a while," he trailed off. He'd talk to them later, after he'd rested a bit. He just couldn't now, he was too tired and didn't feel like wasting the energy. He'd just rest his eyes for a moment…

oooOOOooo

"I'm just not going to be talking for a while."

Colonel Sheppard didn't move from where he stood, his gaze staring at a spot above Dr. Zelenka's shoulder. She had not had many opportunities to work with the Colonel, and she had often considered that a blessing; if any of Doctor McKay's stories were true then Colonel Sheppard was a dangerous man to be around. Dr. McKay had declared on numerous loud occasions that the soldier, and his abstractly styled hair, were 'bad luck charms.' He had said that anyone who worked with him were most likely to end up shot, eviscerated, tied to posts, locked in underground bunkers, or turned into giant yellow flesh eating plants. Among other things.

With all the evidence the science department had been provided with over the years, and Dr. McKay's numerous visits to the infirmary, she could only deduce that the Doctor had been telling the truth. It had never stopped him from willingly working with the man though, and she had long ago decided that said more than possibly exaggerated stories of mortal peril.

Right now there was nothing to exaggerate about. Dr. McKay was lost, and Colonel Sheppard had been standing for a while, tense like a caged tiger poised to fight. He was far from still however, his hands twitched, he would shift slightly on his feet, roll his shoulders, rub his neck, touch the gun strapped to his thigh, and cross and uncross his arms.

But Doctor McKay had just informed them that he was finished talking, and the jumper was left in silence. Colonel Sheppard had gone very still, and Miko had to turn away from him, unwilling to witness the helplessness of a man she knew was accustomed to action, to helping his people. To being in control.

She didn't need to see him to feel his tension. She had enough of her own right now. She considered Dr. McKay a dear colleague, a great mentor, and knowing that he was out _there…_she was almost feeling sick right now in fear.

"Fix the jumper," the Colonel commanded suddenly, his soft voice cut through the air as sharply as a katana. She was drawn to looking at him again, her hands lifting from their work on the systems before her. He was looking at Zelenka, his head tilted down, his eyes dark and unreadable, even in the light of the jumper. Zelenka sat straighter in his chair and pushed his glasses back into place on his nose. He looked pale and tired. Rodney was a dear friend of his as well.

"Colonel, I assure you we are doing everything we can…"

"Do more." The Colonel interrupted, his voice still low and soft. It sent a warning shiver up her spine. She watched, frozen in her seat as Zelenka frowned, looking up at the Colonel. He blinked, and then stood so he could look more directly into their leaders eyes, and he took one, deep breath.

"Colonel, we are doing everything that we can, but these repairs take time, and there are only two of us."

"There are four of us," the Colonel interrupted, and he shifted slightly on his feet, squared his shoulders a little more, became a little bit scarier.

Dr. Zelenka glared at him then, his pale cheeks turning red and his own eyes flashing in anger and he held up a hand and almost poked the Colonel in the chest. She held her breath when the tightly wound soldier's eyes narrowed even more.

"We are doing _everything_ we can, Colonel." Zelenka said very calmly, in the voice he used when he was at his wits end in the labs. "Right now the repairs are too delicate for either yourself or Lycra man to aide with. When you can help we shall inform you, but until that point you must let us do our job as we can." When Sheppard looked like he was about to say something more Zelenka quickly reached out and gently placed his hand on the Colonel's shoulder. The man instantly closed his mouth and looked from the hand to the doctor.

"He is my friend too, Colonel." He said softly, at complete odds with his tone moments before and, like magic, the Colonel's dangerous aura evaporated. For an instant his worry and fear shone through, and then his emotion slipped from his face, in its place was a much more controlled mask. He nodded at Zelenka, meeting his eyes, and Dr. Zelenka nodded back. Then he dropped his arm and went back to work as though nothing had happened.

"Dr. Kusanagi, I need to update Atlantis," the Colonel turned to her professionally and she started at bit, before quickly turning back to her task. A flush of embarrassment rushed through her: she shouldn't have been watching them so intently. It had been a moment between friends more than it had been between colleagues and she had had no right to pry. It was very unprofessional of her.

"Yes, Colonel," she quickly rerouted the system for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "You may reach them now," she announced and looked over to see if he heard her. He nodded and then, out of nowhere, he gave her a little encouraging smile before turning to his task. She couldn't control the blush at his forgiveness, and turned back to her work quickly, cursing her fair skin.

The tension in the small space was still tense though, still desperate, and she felt the weight on her shoulders as she remembered her boss's weak voice just before he stopped talking. Things were far from okay.

"Lycra?" Corporal DeBoer suddenly grumbled from somewhere behind her. "Lycra my ass. This is the most sophisticated neoprene diving suit in the military today."

On the other side of the jumper Dr. Zelenka snorted.

oooOOOooo


	9. Checkmate

**Chapter 9: Checkmate**

Major Lorne stood back and surveyed the scene before him. He wasn't sure if he would call it organized chaos at this point, but the amount of people involved in this project made his instincts sing with warnings of how easily accidents could happen, and Lorne really didn't want any more accidents to deal with at the moment. However, he couldn't deny that Lieutenant Mulwray was in control up here as the man stood back and directed people, and he had made it mandatory that every single person on this roof wore safety equipment.

Lorne fingered the material of his own safety harness, and then crossed his arms over his chest to try to ward off some of the evening's chilled air. Across from where he stood he watched as people hurried about, setting up the crane like contraption that would soon lift the large pieces of debris from where it rested. Behind them Atlantis's main tower continued to rise into the sky, creating a solid wall that separated them from a large number of rooms that were used for storage. There was no wall behind Lorne. There was nothing but wide-open sky, that currently looked like it was on fire from the sunset, and a drop so severe that he hadn't looked back over since the first glance. The only thing that prevented someone from falling was a lip that was barely the height of a step. Hence the safety harnesses.

He rubbed at his arms briefly. The city inside was still baking from the days heat and he hadn't thought to put on more than his t-shirt before coming out here. The cool breeze was almost cutting.

"Sir," Mulwray finally stepped up beside him and Lorne turned his attention on the man.

"Status?"

"We should be ready to move it in a few hours," he announced. "I'm concerned about the stability of the equipment. We've had to jury rig new support struts into the wall, but so far we've been able to safely lift some of the smaller pieces we've separated from the main mass." The man pulled off his hard hat and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead before replacing it.

"Sir!" a soldier's voice called out and Lorne looked over to the man. "We're ready with the lights." He announced.

"Light them up," Mulwray yelled back and the entire area was suddenly saturated in a white glow that momentarily hurt Lorne's eyes, doing nothing for his headache. He hadn't realized how dark it had actually been until just then. He looked back at Mulwray.

"What about the hatch itself?"

"The dent is a problem, as we suspected. The doors won't be able to slide open enough for a jumper to get out. We're going to have to bend it back into place." Lorne frowned as he looked to where the heavy debris sat. He knew the dent wasn't very deep, but it was wide. It would take a long time to bang it back into place.

"How long will that take?"

"Approximately six hours, sir. We can't begin any repairs on it until we know the debris is safely removed." Lorne took a deep breath and resisted rubbing at his eyes. Six hours, after the two, maybe three hours it would take to safely remove the remaining debris in the first place. It was on schedule with the initial assessment but it didn't make Lorne very happy.

They'd been in contact with Sheppard several times since the explosion, and each time Lorne could feel the tension through the radio link increase, though the man was doing his best to hide it. The situation on the downed jumper was fine, or as fine as it could be. They'd reached the surface about an hour ago but apparently fixing the drivepods wasn't really an option. They were limping towards McKay's position now, but it was slow going and they suspected that McKay was injured because the man kept drifting in and out of communication.

Even if they reached McKay in the next hour or so, if the man was seriously injured then he'd need a doctor as soon as possible.

Eight hours to get a jumper to their position was just too damn long.

"What if you cut it out?"

"Sir?" Mulwray looked at him, his eyes narrowing a bit, as if he suspected that Lorne was no longer thinking clearly.

"The dent. Does it have to be bent back into place, or can we remove it all together?"

"We could…" Mulwray looked over at the dent in question, hidden under the metal debris. His eyes flicked back and forth and he looked up at the hoists still be secured into place, and pursed his lips. Calculating. Lorne waited, and resisted the urge to tell the man to spit his answer out already.

"We could." The engineer finally determined, and then looked back at Lorne. "That should only take two, three hours tops. Of course, the repairs afterwards will take much more time."

"That's acceptable," Lorne didn't give a flying frak about repairs to come; he just wanted what would work best right now. "Delwaney's crew completed their rescue mission an hour ago. Tell him what equipment you need and they'll haul it up for you."

"Yes sir," Mulwray nodded sharply and then turned back to his work, carefully holding his safety line to the side as he walked. Lorne turned and headed back towards the door at the side, and quickly pulled off the harness after he stepped through, relieved as the pressure around his legs disappeared. The soldier who had strapped him in had been a little overzealous in her handling, but her muttered words about not losing anyone else today had him biting his tongue from commenting. As he marched down the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the hollow shaft, he activated his radio.

"Lorne to Weir."

"Go ahead, Major."

"We should be able to launch a Jumper in six hours maximum," he announced, and nodded at the blue shirt passing him on the stairs.

"That's good news, Major," her warm tone carried through the radio, though he could still hear the tension in her voice. "Environmental should be functioning again within the hour," she announced and Lorne sighed in relief. The sweat that had dried while he'd been outside was starting to emerge again after only a few minutes in the city. A little air circulation and cooling would go a long way in making this entire disaster easier to handle.

"That's good to hear, Ma'am."

"It is. Why don't you stand down for a few minutes and get something to eat," she offered, but he could sense the order behind her words. Actually, food that wasn't a power bar sounded almost too good to be true right then.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed and turned around, heading towards the mess, their conversation ending. When he arrived, he was relieved to see that everything looked like it was back in order, though there were fewer people behind the counter than usual. He pulled out two trays and began loading them up. He would eat back in the control room. No doubt Weir could use a bite to eat herself.

oooOOOooo

The muffled silence that had been almost overbearing while they'd been under the water's surface, had been replaced by the dull sound of waves splashing against the jumper's hull. John had thought the sound would be more comforting, but all he could really focus on was the fact that Rodney was out in those waves, being splashed around. Alone. And as much fun as it would be to tease McKay later about his fear of whales, right now it was seriously not funny.

Hearing Rodney's voice had been a relief. Hearing his terror and declaration that he was about to be eaten…not such a relief. There had even been a brief, insane moment where he had actually considered taking DeBoer's scuba gear and just swimming out to get McKay himself; despite the fact that they had still been a few hundred feet under water. He'd even stood to start the process before rationality had quickly followed the instinct to _do something_. Instead John had forced himself to be still and silent, waiting for Rodney to say something, anything, else.

It had been a very, very long few minutes.

When Rodney's voice had finally filtered back through the speakers he'd sounded wrecked. His weak demand that everyone in the jumper be okay made John's throat ache. The silence after that statement was heavier than the one about the whales, though John was able to control his breathing now. He was no longer afraid that the Canadian was about to become a nice slab of sashimi for some sea monster. But the weakness in the man's voice…it didn't do anything for his nerves.

When Rodney announced that he wasn't going to speak anymore, something inside John just twisted. His entire body flooded with cold, as if he was in the water himself, and he remembered turning to Zelenka and demanding that the man fix the jumper faster.

John was pretty certain he had been on the verge of going dark side to get his point across before Zelenka had provided a verbal slapdown. Shame had quickly engulfed him, because of course Zelenka was doing everything possible to help Rodney, and John knew that. When he'd looked back into the man's eyes however, instead of anger he saw understanding. He'd taken a deep breath, reined in his control, and gone to update Atlantis.

It was another hour before Rodney spoke again, and the first sound he made was a startled gasp. Then, true to form, the man had begun to talk. And talk and talk.

John had heard Rodney vent enough times in desperate situations to be able to imagine the tremble in his voice that wasn't transferred through the mic. He could imagine the hand gestures and wide eyes that accompanied each one of his statements.

Rodney described to them, in great detail, how he was going to try to reform several individuals' idiotic ways once he was back in Atlantis. Of course, he could only remember the names of about half of his victims, so he'd gone into great detail describing their more physical characteristics. It had been Miko who had attached names to the physical descriptions. Zelenka had simply muttered things Sheppard couldn't understand under his breath.

Rodney had bragged about some new ideas he'd had, but refused to share the details because he believed Radek, who was no doubt listening in, would try and take credit.

He'd wondered how everyone was doing on Atlantis. He predicted their mission had been successful (if his estrangement in the ocean could be considered a success). Then he predicted what could have happened if he _hadn't_ been successful. With either the flight or the explosion.

He'd been silent for a while after that. Everyone had been.

Rodney was very, very good at being descriptive when he wanted to be.

The problem with Rodney talking non-stop, of having no one around to interrupt or shut him off, was that he tended to go on tangents that inevitably turned personal. Much more personal than he'd probably wanted to be.

He'd been quiet for a long time after reminiscing about Peter Grodon. And John could safely say that he had had no idea how close a friend Rodney had considered Dr. Lindstrom, until now that is. When Rodney had started speaking again, he had pointedly turned back to insulting his colleagues.

Now, he was battling John in a verbal game of chess. Of course, John couldn't actually make any moves himself, but that didn't seem to deter Rodney in the least.

"So I would move the pawn to d6." He announced to the jumper at large, and John sighed trying to picture the remaining pieces McKay had given him to work with. He eyed the knight in his mind, looking between it and his rook.

"And, in an apparently completely random and unprecedented play, you move your knight to g4 to block my bishop." McKay decided for him and Sheppard blinked.

"Hey, I did not make that move randomly," he found himself protesting aloud and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Relax Colonel, I said it was an _apparently_ completely random move," McKay's voice announced over the radio and Sheppard quickly uncrossed his arms and sat up straight, staring out at the almost dark sky surrounding them. Beside him Zelenka actually turned away from his work and raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"McKay?" Sheppard said out loud again, and waited a tense moment to see if Rodney would respond. The man had yet to tell them why he couldn't hear them. Maybe he'd finally fixed his hearing device.

"Don't think for a second that I can't tell when you're pretending to have no strategy versus when you actually have no strategy." McKay declared. "And don't bother trying to protest, it's unbecoming."

"McKay?" Sheppard said again, but there was silence for a few minutes and beside him Zelenka sighed.

"He is talking to himself now, imagining your response. He is tired," the scientist said softly "and perhaps in need of food," he turned back to work. Sheppard leaned back in his chair, his head still pounding away despite the mild painkillers DeBoer continued to randomly toss at him.

"You sure he didn't become psychic when he got those gills as well?" DeBoer asked from behind him, and despite the levity he was trying to bring to the situation, John heard the genuine question in the soldier's voice.

If only.

"Quite positive, Corporal," he answered, trying to keep any emotion from his voice. He felt Zelenka turn to look at him briefly but he pointedly ignored the man.

Rodney had never hinted at any psychic tendencies. Though now that John was aware of exactly how well Rodney could keep secrets he felt could threaten him, he couldn't be sure. But no, Rodney would have probably told them about being able to read minds, because it probably would have saved their expedition a lot of grief over the years. The Genii came to mind.

"I'm moving my bishop to f5, blocking that pawn tucked behind my knight. You thought I'd forgotten about that one, eh?" Rodney said after a few minutes of silence, and then fell quiet again. John figured they'd be able to see stars soon, but Rodney had yet to comment on how dark it was. Behind them they would be able to easily see the lights of Atlantis, but they were heading further away from the city.

They had predicted that with Rodney's body weight being so much lighter than the jumper, the current would have carried him further than themselves. They were heading in that direction now. Atlantis had been able to track Rodney's subdermal transmitter, but couldn't get an exact fix on his location. With the jumper as repaired as it could get without proper tools all they could do was limp along the waters surface in his general direction. Zelenka and Miko were working on fixing the jumpers own sensors now.

"Checkmate." Rodney suddenly declared and John blinked. They hadn't been anywhere near checkmate. "Don't look like that," Rodney snorted. "You know you would have lost and I'm tired of playing," he explained and John just blinked again. It was scary how well the man sometimes knew him.

"Of course then you'd say _There's_ _no way you can predict that I was going to lose._ To which of course I'd have to ask if there was ever really any doubt? The answer to which is no, by the way." Rodney was silent for a moment. "Zelenka will back me up," he decided and Sheppard looked incredulously over at Zelenka.

"Is true, he already had your next moves planned out," Zelenka backed McKay up.

"And now that he's backed me up you'll say: _That doesn't even make any sense. I can't lose a game because you've seen what my strategy is when I'm not even the one playing it!_ Which is of course, not the point. The point would be that even if you're not physically playing I still know all your moves. I can also predict what strategies you're going to use depending on your mood, which right now is unhappy. And I won. You're just going to have to get over it."

John opened and closed his mouth a few times, not quite sure how to respond to someone who couldn't even hear him. Jesus, McKay was a competitive son of a bitch.

"It's getting colder now," McKay quietly announced, and John sat straight in his seat again, his body stiff and sore. He looked behind him at DeBoer, who was looking worried.

"Hypothermia would have become an issue almost immediately," the soldier said. "I'm surprised he's as coherent as he is, especially considering how cold it is only twenty meters down. Most people would have probably died hours ago from the cold alone."

"His wet suit is meant to help contain body heat."

"Yeah, but within reason sir. This situation is beyond reason. I don't know how to explain it."

"Perhaps, when he got gills his body was altered further to adapt to the water?" Zelenka contemplated and Sheppard shrugged. He'd had suspicions, but Rodney wasn't very forth coming about his 'condition,' despite his apparent trust in them. He dropped comments occasionally, but they rarely meant anything.

The comment this morning, about him having tested underwater mics before, meant something. Because John was sure as shit that those tests had not taken place in Atlantis, and when Rodney had looked at him pointedly John had had to bite his tongue to stop himself from demanding what that meant.

"I think…" Rodney started and then trailed off. John looked helplessly at Zelenka, who frowned and shook his head.

"We cannot go faster, Colonel," he reminded quietly, which of course John knew. He just really didn't like it. His headache was also making it a bit difficult to concentrate at times.

"They used to tell me they'd drop me in the middle of the ocean if I didn't behave." Rodney finally continued, his voice sounding more distant than usual, weary. "Did I ever tell you that, John?" John turned away from the people looking him in the jumper; he watched the water outside splash against the windshield, looking like black oil in the dark.

"I never did respond well to threats, even then. Or maybe because of then…who knows? Self-analysis was never really my strong suite." John rubbed a hand over his lips and then braced his elbow on the console before him, burying his cheek in his palm. "I actually believed them though. Which was stupid, considering that I knew they wouldn't actually follow through with it. But all I could think about was how I'd never find my way back, and that that stupid whale was going to get me, and I had trouble sleeping for months. Quite possibly years." Sheppard bet those years were still ongoing.

"It's kind of ironic now, though. Because now that I'm exactly where they'd threatened to drop me, and there are actually massive, enormous whales around here somewhere, I think I'm more worried about you people than myself."

There was silence for a while, silence all around and John could feel the pressure of it surrounding him.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I built an atomic bomb for the science fair?" The man suddenly asked, and John blinked in surprise at the subject change.

"He did what?" DeBoer muttered behind him and Zelenka huffed out an exasperated sigh.

"We have all heard about that bomb," the Czech grumbled half-heartedly. "It was a non working model." Then something on his screen beeped and John looked over at him to see him frowning at his controls.

"It's a good story. Pulitzer worthy I'm sure," Rodney continued slowly, taking care to form his words. "Only two people know why I ever did that. Remind me to tell you about them sometime…" he trailed off.

"Sensors have located him. We can be there in fifteen minutes," Zelenka announced and suddenly the energy in the jumper practically blew through the roof. John pointed the jumper where Zelenka directed. Miko moved to the back to help pull blankets from storage and set them up in a pile on the bench. DeBoer moved his equipment out of the way of the jumpers hatch and Rodney had started…singing…old sailor hymns.

"…what do you do with the brilliant astrophysicist? Throw him overboard…"

"Not on my watch, McKay," Sheppard growled, and then called Atlantis to let them know they'd found him.

oooOOOooo

He was singing, badly, but at this point he was somewhat desperate. It was sing when he had practically no voice left from a combination of saltwater and talking, or keep talking and possibly end up _telling_ everyone the story behind the A-bomb instead of just (stupidly) offering to tell John. He had done more than enough talking at this point.

He contemplated telling them that he was beginning to have trouble feeling his fingers and toes, the hypothermia finally getting to him. He was shivering to the point that his arm was screaming at him to do something to make it stop. If he could figure out a way to knock himself out he was pretty sure that he would have done so without any concern to losing valuable brain cells. If anyone had them to spare, it was him.

He'd thought about telling them about his arm, but if he started whining now he wouldn't stop, which meant he'd start focusing even more on the entire mass of pain his stiff body was in. Besides, it was counter productive. Why make Sheppard worry when there was nothing the man could do about it?

If he could even hear him.

He thought about telling them about the very thin, palm sized, see-through red jelly creatures that had attached themselves to his dive suit a little bit before sunset. But there were only a few of them, at least there had been when it was still light enough to see, and they didn't seem to be doing anything bad to him…usually he would be much more concerned about this. The only thing he could deduce was that he was losing his mind to the shock.

Or maybe he was just too tired to properly care? That could be it too. He tended to forget his own health when he was too tired, it was a character flaw that he worked on fixing as much as possible whenever he was being overworked. Some people called it hypochondria…well, whatever, the point was he was tired, and every movement hurt. And food would probably be important any time now.

But above him, he could see the stars like he'd never really seen them before. There were so many, and they were all so clear, so sharp and bright in the sky. He'd finally spotted a glow that had to be Atlantis (but could very well be a school of the planets phosphorescent squid), and it was closer then he'd been able to see from his vantage point in the water, but even that light pollution didn't take away from the absolutely incredible view above him.

Just him and the stars. Funny how he'd never wondered about the beauty of being lost at sea, only the terror. He was pretty certain it was safe to say that the beauty did not outweigh the terror.

"Give 'im a dose of salt and water, give 'im a dose of salt and water, give him a dose of salt and water," Rodney took another deep breath, "early in the morning."

He had often wondered, growing up, that if he hadn't complained so much, hadn't fought so much when they'd had him, that maybe it would have been easier. Maybe they wouldn't have been so…cold. Maybe they wouldn't have told him they'd drop him in a hell like this. It had taken him a long time to realize that, no matter how he'd acted or what he'd done, it all would have happened anyway. Some people had the power to take whatever they wanted. To do whatever they wanted.

"Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper, soak 'im in oil-" he paused to cough, feeling the raw burn in his throat, the stabbing pain in his arm, the dull roar of his body "-till he sprouts a flipper early in the morning." He suddenly heard a loud rumbling and splash coming from somewhere off to his right and stopped singing abruptly. He moved so he was vertical in the water and twisted towards the noise, eyes wide and trying to control his breathing.

Fear spiked through him, all consuming and his vision went white for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, this is not happening!" he hissed, choking on his words. The pain in his body disappeared, with exception to the agony of his jarred arm. He clutched the useless limb to his chest and wished he had a weapon right now. Any kind of weapon, even a spork from the cafeteria would do! He could make out a massive grey shape looming towards him, its skin gleaming in the starlight.

His tool belt! He fumbled at it with his good hand, but his fingers were numb and he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it. Oh god.

"Oh this is not good! Go away!" He yelled at the giant creature coming straight for him, and started to kick away, throwing his good arm into the act as he yelled at it. He closed his eyes.

"I do not taste good! Seriously!" He tried to swim faster. It felt useless. He'd be better off underwater. He heard a big splash not too far from him.

"McKay!" He didn't hear the voice yell from all the noise he was creating. He took a breath and dove underwater.

He'd barely made it a meter, hadn't even taken a breath of water yet, when something wrapped itself around his body.

He reacted violently, throwing his good arm out, feeling it connect and the grip loosen, before it wrapped itself around him again and, with incredible strength, hauled him back to the surface.

Rodney took a deep breath and was about to scream, when someone beat him to it.

"McKay! Calm down! I've got you!"

Rodney stopped struggling, and blinked. What?

"You okay now? I've got you, you're going to be fine," the man's voice (he could tell it was human now) was softer this time, speaking directly into his ear, nose pressed into his hair.

"Bobby?" he whimpered, completely disoriented.

The man started to move, his arm wrapped under Rodney's armpits, around his chest, taking care to hold his head above the water and then Rodney noticed the light. He squinted at it, and realization came to him.

It was the jumper. And standing right at the edge of the open hatch, waiting, was John. Rodney couldn't see his face, but he'd know the silhouette of that hair anywhere.

"We've got you, McKay," The voice said again as they reached the jumper's hatch, and then John was there, dragging him bodily from the water and into the jumper. Rodney's arm was jarred and he hissed in pain, but at that moment he really didn't care.

He was safe.

oooOOOooo

**AN:** If you haven't read 'Still Waters' then you won't understand the reference to Bobby. FYI, Bobby is Rodney's uncle. J


	10. Well Pounded Schnitzel

**Chapter 10: Well Pounded Schnitzel**

He watched Corporal DeBoer dive into the water after McKay and it took all his restraint to resist following him into the drink. Instead he braced himself against the edge of the jumper's hatch, his left leg pressed tightly against the metal wall, and leaned out as far as he could to watch after them. The light from the jumper cast an unearthly glow over the inky water, making the waves appear even more dangerous as they rose and fell. They looked more than capable of sucking a man into their clutches, pulling him down so deep that he'd never be seen again.

Sheppard took a deep breath. It didn't do much to ease his nerves.

The jumper rocked with the wave's sway, its lurching more noticeable now that they were no longer ploughing through it. The water crashed and rolled over the jumper's exposed hatch, forcing its way into the ship to flood the floor, grabbing at everything in its path.

His feet were immersed to his ankles. The water felt cold against his heated skin. There would be no saving these boots.

Behind him, from a safe position in the middle of the jumper, Miko gasped as DeBoer's body gracefully disappeared beneath the waves, fins and all. He emerged a moment later, and Sheppard heard him holler out McKay's name, loud and piercing in the night. He watched the man propel himself towards Rodney, and he concentrated on feeding out the rope in his hands, giving the Corporal room to work. The rope was black polypropelyne, good for floating, but John could barely see it in the water. He really wished that they had thought to store some of the overbearingly bright orange and pink rope as well. Camouflage wasn't always necessary, or wanted.

He could just make out the back of Rodney's head, a short distance away, as the man executed a frantic, clumsy swim away from them that was nothing like his normal grace in the water. DeBoer called out his name again, almost upon him, and then John stopped breathing.

Rodney was gone.

Fuck.

John sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his teeth together; he tasted blood on his tongue and swallowed convulsively. Rodney had just dropped beneath the surface like a stone, the blackness instantly filling in the place he had been, removing any sign of presence. DeBoer instantly followed him under the water, his dive almost simultaneous with McKay's, and John was reminded absurdly of synchronized swimming.

The silence that followed was absolute. It was wrong. Anything involving Rodney should never be silent and John had had enough of that silence for one day. He blinked out at the dark water.

Ten seconds passed and the rope in his hands felt synthetic and weak as it slipped through his fingers in spurts. Pull, pause, pull, pause. Sheppard swallowed again, staring at the point where both men had disappeared. He should have gone after McKay himself. Screw the fact that he was injured. Screw the fact that he had no wetsuit to protect him. It was summer for Christ's sake! McKay was his team mate, and Sheppard did not stand by idly while a team mate was in trouble.

Thirty seconds felt like hours and John was frozen with indecision. To jump or not to jump? McKay had gone underwater, and there was no doubt it was pure instinct that was driving him. Instinct to escape using whatever means necessary. What if DeBoer couldn't find him? The Corporal couldn't hold his breath forever while he searched and Rodney…Rodney would dive deep beyond their immediate reach. And John didn't know if they would be able to get to him before it was too late.

That was unacceptable. John was going to have to get in there and help.

He straightened up and made to turn and announce his new plan to the scientists, when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He jerked back around and there, not even thirty feet from him, two pale heads had burst from the blackness, water spraying furiously in their struggle. The jumper's light illuminated their skin, making them look like two bobbing miniature moons. The relief John wanted to feel didn't come. He wouldn't be happy until Rodney was truly safe.

Sheppard watched tensely as Corporal DeBoer yelled at McKay to calm down, anything else he said was lost among the noise of their movement, but whatever it was worked because within seconds he was giving the signal to hall them in. Sheppard didn't waste another second. Already braced, he dragged the two men, hand over hand, back towards the jumper, the water making the material slick in his grasp. Behind him Miko helped, keeping the rope from piling haphazardly and tangling up in his feet. He didn't take his eyes off his charges.

When they were close enough Sheppard watched as McKay twisted again in the Corporal's arms, and then he was looking right at John. His eyes were wide and didn't seem able to focus on Sheppard's, but the relief on his face was unmistakable. The moment they were at the edge of the jumper John dropped the rope, trusting Miko to hold onto her end, and fell to his knees. DeBoer, huffing, pushed McKay into a position that allowed Sheppard to get a good hand on him.

He reached under his friend's armpits, digging his fingers into the suit and gripping tightly before he hauled the man up and out of the water in one forceful move. Sheppard fell backwards, using his momentum and their combined bodyweight to pull Rodney further into the jumper. Water splashed around them as they landed, John's entire body jarring at the impact of but he maintained his hold and kept Rodney pressed tightly to him, splayed between his legs. Rodney grunted in pain. Miko was on her knees beside them in a second, wrapping a hand around each of their arms in support as DeBoer hauled himself back into the jumper.

Then the ship's door was sliding shut, the noise of the waves cut off, and John distantly acknowledged that the water he could feel sloshing around his legs and lower back was quickly drained away. Rodney, his back to John's chest, was trembling where he lay. Then one of his arms dropped to his side, groping clumsily, until he found John's leg. Apparently that was exactly what he'd been searching for and he grunted in satisfaction, hooking his arm around John's thigh, his clenched fist coming to rest just under his knee. Then he squeezed John's leg to his side, holding him, and John could feel the weakness in what would normally be an almost crushing grip.

"We've got you, Rodney," John said, "You're safe." John pat Rodney's chest in reassurance and, as though a switch had been flipped, McKay's stiff body just…sagged. His head dropped back and landed on Sheppard's chest with a thump that was far from gentle, and John winced, frowning down at him.

"Hey, don't get too cozy now. I don't moonlight as a couch."

"That's probably a good thing. Too bony," McKay muttered in response, his voice horribly raspy and painful to listen too. Sheppard would take offence to his words if he wasn't so damned glad to have the man back safe and sound. Finally.

"Yeah well, beggars can't be choosers," he shot back and McKay snorted. The man shifted in his arms and then froze, his body losing its relaxed flop and he sucked in a pained breath.

"We need to check you over for injury, Dr. McKay," Miko spoke softly and John nodded quickly, trying to hide that he'd completely forgotten about her presence, despite the warmth of her hand still resting on his arm. Rodney groaned and made no effort to move.

"She's right, McKay. We didn't go to all the trouble of saving your heavy ass not to fix you up properly." Sheppard shifted beneath the man's bulk and McKay instantly groaned in protest. Sheppard looked up as DeBoer kneeled next to them on the floor, meeting the man's worried eyes. He could feel how cool Rodney was against his chest and despite the warmth of the jumper John was beginning to shiver.

"I'm going to do a quick primary survey, Colonel. We'll make him more comfortable after that," the man announced, not even giving Sheppard a chance to agree as he was already gently running his hands through Rodney's hair and over his scalp, down his neck. He took the same care he had taken while he'd checked Sheppard over hours ago.

"Hey, don get fresh," Rodney groaned, and then hissed sharply as the Dutchman ran careful fingers over his left arm. John pursed his lips unhappily as the man speculated that it could be broken.

"Could have tol you tha," Rodney grumbled in response.

"Be a good scientist and let the man do his job, Rodney," Sheppard said softly into his friend's wet hair. He bent his head to the side and tried to get a look at McKay's face, which was decidedly difficult at this angle. What skin he could see was pale and shiny. Shiny? He frowned.

Suddenly Miko disappeared from his side, and then Zelenka was kneeling there, frowning as he took in the situation and pushed his glasses further up his nose with a decidedly unhappy air. His hair was sticking all over the place as he quickly informed John that he needed Miko to make sure the jumper maintained its current position. It would only willingly listen to Zelenka, a non-gene carrier, for so long.

"What is that?" The man suddenly asked, pointing to a spot on Rodney's stomach. John craned his head to look where the scientist was indicating, his cheek brushing Rodney's wet hair.

"I don't know," DeBoer answered as he gently pulled off Rodney's only flipper to finish the last bit of his examination. "There's a few of them stuck to his suit, but nothing on his skin," as he said that he pulled his hand off of Rodney's bare foot. DeBoer paused and rubbed his fingers together, frowning at his hand peculiarly and then casting a brief look at Rodney's face. Sheppard was about to ask him what was wrong but he went back to his examination and John became distracted as Radek began rummaging around in the racks above them.

The Czech was beside them again in a second and Sheppard watched in disgusted fascination as the scientist carefully used a pair of forceps to peel a palm sized, almost paper thin, slimy…thing from Rodney's suit. It flopped in the air like a soggy crepe, dark red and very, very disgusting. Radek quickly put it into a container and sealed it. Rodney didn't react at all. Sheppard looked down to find that the one eye he could see had closed, even though his body was still tense and shivering.

"Hey buddy, still with us?"

"Unfortunately," the man croaked out and Sheppard appreciated the effort he made to speak. He looked at DeBoer.

"Are we okay to get him out of this thing?" he gestured to the black suit and his hand accidentally brushed against the material and flesh. He jerked it back as his fingertips brushed something cool, and slick and decidedly not a wetsuit. He'd unintentionally touched McKay's gills. McKay didn't react though and John found himself staring down at the three pale gill slits, unable to stop himself and fascinated at their sheer oddness. They weren't rising and falling in a parody of breath anymore, not having any water to pump through them. Instead they were still, flat, almost unnoticeable against his pale skin except for the darker tint of skin that lined their edges. He reached out and gently brushed his fingers over Rodney's skin again, this time avoiding the actual gills. Rodney shifted in his lap. Sheppard brought his hand closer to his face, and rubbed his fingers together, mimicking the Corporal's earlier action. He frowned at the texture.

"McKay? Your skin is slimy," he announced, posing it as both a statement and question.

Whatever ease McKay had managed to reach by that point suddenly evaporated and he tensed again in Sheppard's arms. His turned his head stiffly to the side, looking pointedly away from them. Sheppard could feel his jaw move under his chest as he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"It happens," he finally muttered, and didn't offer anything further. After a moment of silence all around he shifted, and Sheppard realized with a start that he was trying to get up, trying to move away from him.

"Hey! Hold on there, Rodney," he gently wrapped his arms further around his friend and held on so the man would stop his sudden struggle. Sheppard didn't like how weak he was. "We're going to get you out of this suit and bundled up in some blankets now, but you've got to let us do the work okay?"

"You don't need to hold me, not an invalid," Rodney scoffed softly and shifted again, trying to get away. Trying to give John an excuse to pull away, no doubt thinking the slickness of his skin disgusted him. McKay really needed to stop assuming he knew John so well.

"No, you're not an invalid, and you're not an eel so quit squirming around and let us help." John kept his tone light, teasing, but he gave his friend a squeeze to let him know that it was fine. Everything was okay.

"Fine," the scientist grumbled, his movement ceased and he sounded distinctly unhappy. Sheppard frowned and then looked at DeBoer, who now wielded a pair of field scissors. At Sheppard's nod of permission he began cutting away at the thick material, slicing gently down the centre of Rodney's chest, arms, and then legs.

Rodney didn't say a word, but his breathing hitched a few times.

There was some bruising on Rodney's chest, but not much. There was no danger of broken or fractured ribs, thank god, and no contusions. His left arm was a different story, obviously swollen with deep bruising in a concentrated spot. They splinted it and wrapped in a sling, DeBoer satisfied only when he had checked to make sure circulation was still reaching McKay's fingers. Rodney still didn't say anything, but John had noticed how his arm, the good one, had dropped to his side to hover protectively over his gills, hiding them from view. It sent a jolt of anger and sadness through him, and if either Zelenka or DeBoer noticed the action they both pointedly ignored it. They also made a point of not mentioning Rodney's gills at all.

Sheppard was oddly grateful on behalf of McKay.

"Okay, let's get you out of the Colonel's lap and onto the bench," DeBoer ordered, breaking the heavy silence that had surrounded them since he'd begun cutting McKay out of his wet suit. McKay huffed and then moved to sit up without Sheppard's aid. The fact that he had remained in that position for so long spoke volumes about his exhaustion. The three men quickly moved to help.

In moments Rodney was seated on the bench, wearing nothing but his lemon covered swim trunks (an anonymous gift), shivering almost violently and staring at the ground. He swayed slightly, and Sheppard kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The cool flesh was unnervingly slimy there as well, but he could do without his friend becoming even more acquainted with the floor and therefore pointedly ignored it.

"Potverdomme!" DeBoer cursed suddenly and McKay jerked in Sheppard's grasp. Sheppard looked sharply at DeBoer, but the man wasn't looking at him, he was looking at Rodney's back. Zelenka was crowded behind the big man, his eyes wide as he stared. Sheppard dropped his eyes to see what they were staring at.

"Jesus, McKay!" He hissed, his own eyes widening. He resisted the urge to whistle in horrified fascination.

"What?" The man asked, suddenly interested in the proceedings again. He tried to look over his shoulder but grimaced at the movement and faced forward again. "What's wrong?" He was starting to sound panicked.

"You've got a couple of bruises there, Rodney," John said slowly. It was an understatement. Most of his left side was one giant mass of discolouration, pinks and pale purples. Those bruises were nothing compared to the deep purples and reds mottling a thick line across his lower, and mid-way up, his back. Looking now he could even see some discolouration on the back of McKay's upper left arm.

"A couple? You look like a well-pounded schnitzel," Radek stepped away and picked up the blankets Miko had set up earlier.

"Oh," was all Rodney said. John looked away from the painful sight and watched as McKay's eyes drifted shut. He took the blankets offered by Zelenka and gently wrapped it over his friend's shoulders. McKay seemed to just snuggle into the warmth, though he winced at the smallest of movements. John winced in sympathy. His back must feel like murder.

When McKay turned down the offer of food DeBoer shoved a couple of glucose tablets, tylenol and almost a full bottle of water down his throat instead. Then they eased his feet off the ground, lying him on his good side on the bench. They then proceeded to wrap him in a few more blankets. John sat down on the small space left by McKay's head. His headache coming back to pounding force now that his adrenaline levels were dropping again.

"Safe and sound," he muttered and DeBoer, frowning at him, shoved another tylenol blister pack into his hand. Sheppard didn't hesitate to swallow them down. When the soldier suggested he remove his saltwater soaked boots he just glared at him. Never separate a man from his boots. DeBoer didn't seem overly impressed with his response, but seeing as Sheppard was his commanding officer he decided to leave him alone when ordered.

Sheppard leaned back on the bench, resting his head against the wall. He was almost as soaked through as McKay had been, and the rub of cold material against his skin was uncomfortable. He could taste the oceans salt on his lips and an old cut on his forearm hadn't stopped stinging since he'd wrapped his arms around McKay and dragged him into the jumper.

Beside him McKay groaned softly and John looked down at his friend's face. The man's eyes were pressed tighter than they should be, and his lips were drawn into a thin line. John looked around to see that Radek had disappeared back to the front of the jumper and DeBoer was sorting out the mess they'd made, pointedly ignoring them both.

Rodney groaned again, this time sounding a bit more desperate. Sheppard frowned and then, hesitatingly, reached out and rested his hand on the man's shoulder.

"It's okay, Rodney. I've got your back," he rumbled softly, making a point to not look over at the other soldier. The Corporal made no indication that he'd heard. The lines on McKay's face eased, and after a few minutes the muscles bunched under Sheppard's hand relaxed as well.

John left his had there. McKay needed to get some rest after all.

He leaned his head against the jumper wall again and closed his eyes. He'd need to call Elizabeth in a few minutes. Give her an update and get the latest status report for Atlantis. Hopefully they wouldn't be here that much longer, but now that Rodney was no longer lost, floating alone and without any protection in the ocean, things didn't seem nearly so bad. Sheppard let his body relax, feeling his hand lift slightly with each of his friend's breaths. Slowly the shivers wracking his body began to dissipate.

He'd call Elizabeth in a few minutes. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment first.

oooOOOooo

When Carson had heard that they had _finally_ (perhaps he was being a bit uncharitable, but it had taken for bloody ever!) managed to fix the giant garage doors to the jumper bay's ceiling he had wasted no time grabbing his field medical bag and handing his infirmary over to the capable (if young) hands of Dr. Keller. He had then marched up to the jumper bay and was just stepping through the doors when Major Lorne's voice had chirped in his ear, requesting an audience.

"Yes Major, I suppose you were calling to ask for my presence on this rescue?" Carson called out as he quickly closed the last of the distance to the man in question. To his credit the Major didn't jump in surprise as he turned around to face Carson. Instead his assessed Carson's 'mission' attire and the giant pack he was lugging on his back and nodded in satisfaction.

"Actually, I was. I see your grapevine is working faster than ever," he commented casually and Carson allowed himself a moment of pride. Often times the command staff of Atlantis tended to overlook Carson and his staff when they weren't directly needed. Needless to say Carson had had to develop his own sources of information to keep him in the loop when he didn't feel that it was proper to go directly to the source. If that meant that he occasionally got the drop on other people, well, that was just a little perk.

"It is," he agreed, and then looked closely at the Major. The man's normally healthy complexion was looking a wee bit waxen, his exhaustion beginning to shine through despite his strong stance. Carson frowned at him and the Major shifted on his feet, as though he knew exactly what Carson was thinking. Carson didn't comment however, and the Major didn't either. "Are we ready to go then?" He asked instead and Lorne nodded.

"In five minutes. We're just doing a last check on the magnets and then we'll be good to go." Carson's eyes widened.

"Magnets? Oh, please don nae tell me we're gonna be-"

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Lorne announced, looking both proud and trying to hide the strain in his grin. "Think of it as a fishing trip, only with a few giant magnets instead of a hook."

"Oh dear," Carson sighed, and then finally took full notice of the few people standing around two enormous looking contraptions that were clearly secured in several places to two jumpers. "Are those?"

"Junkyard magnets? They sure are, only with a bit of modification a la McKay's blueshirts." Carson felt a bit better knowing the scientists had gone over them, but he decided not to ask which scientists in particular for peace of mind.

"This is just as insane as Colonel Sheppard's 'grappling hook' contraption from the last time we were in this mess."

"We learn from the best," Lorne responded, albeit dryly. Carson couldn't figure out if the man was completely serious, or completely insane. Perhaps it was a touch of both, which certainly seemed to be more common than not with the people of this expedition. Carson decided a quick prayer for deliverance might not be out of place at this time, and looked to the sky. He felt his eyes widen involuntarily as he stared upwards.

"Major? It would appear that there is a giant hole in the ceiling," he found himself commenting and then looked incredulously at the man. Lorne shrugged.

"It was necessary."

"I hope you have a very large amount of solid evidence to back that up when Rodney finds out," Carson decided to add a quick prayer for the Major as well, especially when the man laughed.

"He'll be alive. That's enough."

And yes, it was definitely enough for any sane human being. However, this was Rodney McKay they were discussing. Still, Carson quickly agreed with the Major that he was indeed correct, the poor, poor lad, and loaded himself onto a jumper.

It wasn't long before the Major and Lieutenant Mulwray joined him, taking their positions in the pilot seats. Before he knew it, they were on their way. Carson couldn't help standing and walking to the front after he'd stored his things, staring out into the darkness beyond them. The exterior lights on the jumper were powerful, illuminating the small waves beneath them as they sped along the surface. He stared at the water, and repressed a shudder.

They weren't even five minutes into their flight when they began to slow down, coming closer to their target. Sixteen hours after they had all been lost in the water and they hadn't travelled that far at all. He looked at the Major, seeing the man's jaw clench and unclench as he concentrated on his work, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. So close and yet so far. That was a very familiar feeling among the people of Atlantis.

"Jumper One approaching target," the major announced, breaking the tense silence and then, like a lighthouse, Carson could see a faint glow bobbing on the water. "I have a visual on the jumper," the soldier announced. Carson felt his knees go weak with relief but he resisted the urge to sit down. He stared hard as they approached and then he heard Radek's voice in his ear, confirming that they could see them approaching as well.

The Major slowed down until they were hovering over top of their people. Jumper Two was hovering across from them, in clear view. Carson could just make out the two pilots inside and realised that he had no idea who they were. He resisted the childish urge to wave.

"Dr. Zelenka, how are our patients?" Lorne asked, and Carson snapped back from the relief of seeing the jumper in tact and floating on the waters surface.

"Colonel Sheppard is the same. Dr. McKay no longer seems to be in any danger of hypothermia, but he is in a lot of pain. Both are currently resting."

"Do you need immediate medical assistance?"

"We do not believe it is necessary, so long as we do not delay for much longer." Zelenka sounded a bit tenser than usual.

"Are ye sure ye won't be needing my services, lad?" Carson couldn't help but ask, his natural worry getting the best of him. He hated not being able to help people immediately, and the feeling was always so much worse when it involved friends.

He also may be a bit touchy, not wanting to risk even the slightest chance of losing anyone else. They had lost too many this day already.

"Positive Doctor, you can save your daring entrance for another day." The man responded and Lorne informed them they were going to get into position then.

Carson looked at Lieutenant Mulwray in confusion. "Daring entrance?" he asked and the man paused in his task to glance at him.

"How did you think you were going to get down there, Doc?" He nodded behind them and Carson turned, finally noting the harnesses and ropes all neatly piled and secured. Oh bloody hell, he hadn't even thought about that part.

"Right," he couldn't help squeaking, and then quickly sat in the seat behind Major Lorne.

"Jumper One is lowering the first magnet. Hang tight people," Lorne announced, his eyes squinting in concentration. A few tense moments passed, Carson holding his breath in anticipation. "Magnet securely attached. Is everyone okay in there?"

"Yes Major, we are all fine." Zelenka responded quickly. A little too quickly.

"Are you sure?" Major Lorne asked, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown that made him look older than he was. His back was tense in his seat, but his hands were still loose on the controls.

"Yes, I am positive. I ah, forgot to announce that rescue was about to occur. Colonel Sheppard is no longer resting." He sounded slightly sheepish over the line and Lorne visibly relaxed, though not completely.

"Understood. Jumper Two, take your position."

"Jumper Two in position. Lowering magnet." They waited a moment in tense silence, not able to see the other jumper anymore as it was slightly above and behind them. "The magnet is securely attached sir. Everything reads positive. We are good for go."

"Affirmative. On my mark we'll lift off. One, two, mark."

After that it was all rather anti-climatic. Carson couldn't tell at all that they were literally carrying another jumper beneath them, attached to them by only magnets and long cables. Still, it apparently took a great deal of concentration as they flew back to the city in near silence. And dropping the broken jumper off at the base of the main tower was a bit tricky, but in the end they made it.

Carson wasted no time marching out of his jumper, through the small crowd that had gathered, and chased his awaiting medical team right into the recovered ship. They parted for him immediately and he finally laid eyes upon the Colonel and Rodney. Carson sighed as he took in both of them.

They were a right mess they were. Sheppard had an impressive bruise traveling up one half of his face and was squinting with what Carson immediately suspected was a concussion. His clothes looked damp and a blanket rested on the floor to his side, obviously kicked away. His hand was protectively resting on Rodney's shoulder, and Rodney himself was sitting up huddled under so many blankets all Carson could see was his face.

The man scowled when Carson told him to drop the blankets. Carson glared right back and noted that Sheppard made no move to help or hinder, he just watched Carson from under hooded eyes. Brilliant. He was dealing with a protective alpha male and a belligerent alpha male. Carson resisted the urge to throw his arms out and start yelling at the two stubborn gits. He pursed his lips instead. So they were going to be like that were they?

"Everyone who doesn't need to be here, out," he ordered, leaving no room for argument. Radek and Miko scurried past, DeBoer followed and a moment later Carson could hear the Dutchman ordering the soldiers and scientists that had gathered outside to back away until it was clear. Carson's two nurses stayed. John stayed.

"Right then, are we going to continue being a wee shy lad now? Or will you let us help you?"

"C'mon McKay, the masses are gone." Sheppard suddenly urged, but he glanced back to the jumper's door, just to make sure no one was peaking in. Carson sighed. He understood that Rodney didn't want others to see his gills, he knew his friend had his reasons and he would protect his privacy as much as possible, with or without the Colonel's help. Rodney hesitated once more, and then reluctantly began to drop his blankets, immediately looking cold and miserable.

Carson and his staff quickly assessed the situation. He frowned at the deep bruising, the broken arm and the signs of shock. They'd done a good job at stabilizing him, but they needed x-rays, scans, fluids and warm blankets, and not necessarily in that order. Within a few minutes Rodney was wrapped up and strapped down to the stretcher with an IV securely attached to his arm.

Sheppard, however, protested needing a stretcher himself, and kept protesting the entire journey to the infirmary. Carson noted that he quieted down the moment they pushed through the doors however, his eyes crinkling unhappily as he took in all the people who were still guests of the infirmary. He nodded to those that were awake and watching them, and stoically did everything Carson's staff told him to do: setting a good example. Carson knew the man hated it every step of the way, despite the willing and confident façade. Regardless of the Colonel's feelings, it was all necessary. Besides, it wouldn't be long before a nurse would be giving him little sedative, which would help nudge the exhausted man into a healing sleep. Hopefully he would remain that way until morning.

Rodney, on the other hand, was being entirely too co-operative as he allowed Carson and his staff to do what they pleased without comment. Carson frowned down at his friend. It was time to get to work.

oooOOOooo

"Potverdomme!" is Dutch for 'Damn it!'


	11. WhiteOut

**Chapter 11: White-Out**

They were all tired. Exhausted even, and now that the danger was alleviated she could feel the weariness settle into her bones. Looking at the worn out faces around her she knew she wasn't the only one in need of a few nights of deep rest. She wasn't sure that would be possible though, not after the last day and a half.

Zelenka sat in Sheppard's usual seat, unknowingly mimicking his slouch, but instead of appearing comfortably casual, he looked like he was ready to fall asleep exactly as he was. He'd been pulling his glasses off to rub at his eyes every few minutes, and he'd refilled his coffee mug twice since entering the room. She was sure she felt even more tired than she was just by her proximity to him.

Carson, and Major Lorne didn't look that much better, though Lorne was doing an excellent job of hiding his own exhaustion. The dark smudges under his eyes gave him away. Actually, so did the glazed look in his eyes as he stared at Dr. Zelenka, trying to focus on the man's words. Lord love the man, but sometimes, even when falling asleep where he sat, the scientist could outtalk the energizer bunnies drum.

She completely understood Lorne's glassy stare.

Turning back to the only scientist in the room she watched as he took another gulp of coffee, and then a deep breath to continue his presentation.

"So what you're saying," Carson quickly cut in before Radek could continue, "is that there's no possibility that the ship will take off by itself again."

Radek blinked at the doctor, looking both irritated and relieved at the interruption.

"Were you not listening? Yes, that is what I am explaining. After the city's flight and the following explosion that Rodney was able to contain, the excess energy that had built up during storm has been completely purged from the city systems." He paused, and frowned, his eyes squinting at his computer. "At least that is what all of our scans and tests have so far informed us."

"I sense a 'but' in there somewhere," Carson sounded concerned, and Weir didn't blame him. None of them wanted to deal with anything like this ever again.

"Well, is obvious to me this current disaster is under control, and while all tests agree with this I can not state for certain that this will 'never' happen again. Only that it is highly improbable." Weir leaned back in her seat and tried to relax her tense shoulders without much result. She understood what he was saying: they could never discount the possibility of an impossibility.

"I understand that you have already assigned teams to further investigate the city's engines and space flight capabilities?" She asked, looking down at the agenda before her, one she had hastily scribbled out on the back of a requisition letter twenty minutes before this meeting began, her eyes too tired to stare at a computer screen anymore.

"Yes. We had already had such teams arranged before," Zelenka paused and rubbed at his eyes. The 'before this disaster' was left implied. "But they were not scheduled to begin work for a few months yet. This project has now been moved up on our priority list." He sounded guilty, tired, and she could easily read the sorrow in his features. Weir leaned forward in her seat.

"This was not your fault, Radek. It wasn't anyone's fault. No one could have predicted what happened, or predicted that they needed to investigate those systems sooner than was initially planned. All reports I have received prior to and after this have said as much," she said softly. She was relieved when he nodded in agreement, but his lips were still stuck in a frown as he looked at her.

"I am not the one who will need so much convincing."

They all sat around the table in a moment of silence, not really knowing what to say to that. She thought about Rodney lying asleep on his cot in the infirmary. Beside her Carson cleared his throat, and she looked to him. He had a small stack of files sitting neatly before him.

"I'm sorry," he began, and sighed, before pushing the files to Weir. She knew what they were.

She didn't want them.

"We lost three people." He swallowed thickly and looked away from the files. She lay her hand on top of them, felt the residual warmth from where his own hand had been resting for the last hour. She nodded.

"Three good people," she acknowledged quietly, already knowing whose names were printed neatly on each folder. "How is Dr. Corrigan?" Carson looked over at her and smiled gently, although maybe a bit wobbly.

"I think he will pull through just fine. He, along with several others, will need to return to earth for more extensive rehab. There is no great rush to get them home at this time, but I wouldn't want to delay their departure any longer than a week."

"Understood. I'm going to speak to your people on a more personal level throughout the week, but I want to commend your staff on a crisis well handled. All of your people," she looked pointedly at them, "and yourselves. I have difficulty comprehending how much worse this could have been if everyone hadn't been so swift and efficient with their duties." She paused here and swallowed thickly. "I can't begin to express how proud I am." They sat a little straighter in their seats, pride evident on their faces as she looked between the three men. Three very tired men. It was time to call this meeting to a halt.

"If that's everything gentlemen, then I believe we should all get some much deserved rest."

"Actually, there's one more thing Dr. Weir," Major Lorne spoke and she looked at him expectantly. "There may have been a breach of security, Ma'am." He didn't appear overly concerned by this as he leaned back in his seat, but it was setting off her alarm bells all the same.

"What kind of breach?" She sat straighter in her seat.

"Nothing too serious, Dr. Weir. It just seems that one of the security surveillance videos, or more specifically the recording of the control room during Atlantis's crash landing, has somehow fallen into the hands of the general population."

The video feed during Atlantis' crash? She had seen that video when they had been trying to figure out what had happened and Rodney had been unavailable for comment. She had watched as Rodney had yelled instructions into his radio as he scrambled back and forth between consoles. He had worked right up until Atlantis had actually smashed into the ocean, and hadn't braced himself at all for the impact, more concerned with raising the shield. He had flown over the top of the work station on impact, and hadn't stopped sliding along the floor until his back had slammed into the railing that separated the balcony from the gateroom's floor. Then he had been tossed back towards the work station, arms flailing as he scrambled for purchase, before being slammed back into the railing a second time.

She didn't want to think of what could have happened had the railing not been there.

When he had finally pushed himself to his feet, staggering and holding his left arm gingerly to his chest, he had gone right back to work, completely ignoring Chuck's attempts at assistance.

She had known, since they first arrived in Atlantis and he had walked, terrified, into that massive energy being, that when the situation warranted he would push past his arrogance and bluster and pain to do what needed to be done. She couldn't explain why, and she often felt guilty for it, but despite all the proof she'd had been provided over the years she was still surprised and awed when faced with his bravery.

"The one with Rodney saving us all with untrained acrobatics?" Dr. Zelenka asked.

"It would seem so. Sergeant Campbell informed me that it has somehow been passed along a few military channels and is now in the hands of several scientists." Lorne looked back at her and she saw the glint in his eye. And suddenly she understood.

"Right, well," she looked pointedly around the room and pushed to her feet. "I don't think that's anything to worry about. As far as I know, there's nothing classified in that file." She quirked an eyebrow at the Major.

"No Ma'am," he was quick to agree and stood as well, Carson and Zelenka quickly following suit.

"Am I missing something here?" Carson asked, looking between them and she looked at him, a real smile gracing her lips for the first time since the disaster began.

"Not at all, Carson. I want all of you to get some rest," she ordered looking at them pointedly. Not one of them argued. "We'll meet again tomorrow morning with Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay for a full briefing." She nodded at them in dismissal and headed towards her own room.

It was a smart play, leaking the recording. She hadn't been overly concerned yet, but there had been a few reports about rumors that Rodney had not tried hard enough to stop this tragedy. That he hadn't done his job well enough to prevent the deaths of those they'd lost, and to prevent the injuries of everyone else.

She understood the accusations, and the fact that some people needed someone to blame in times of tragedy. In closed societies like Atlantis it wasn't uncommon for that blame to be situated on the shoulders of those in charge. Everyone on the senior staff had to deal with it and, sadly, would have to keep dealing with it as long as they were out here. It was just another burden of responsibility they had to carry.

Still, leaking the recording should be enough evidence to the contrary, and if it didn't satisfy the few people grumbling now, it would satisfy everyone else. The others could wait until the official report was completed.

She walked into her room and sighed, looking at the mess of sculptures and books lying scattered on the floor. The bowl John had given her for her birthday was shattered, the shards lying threateningly in front of her bathroom door. She looked across to her bed, at the sunlight filtering in from the massive window. There was nothing wrong with her bed.

She shucked her jacket as she moved to it, and after sitting down she removed her shoes and pulled her feet safely onto the bed.

Safely.

They were safe. For now. She smiled sadly to herself and lay back, her head sinking into the pillow. It was only moments before sleep claimed her.

oooOOOooo

"What? You think I selected this task for you because I'm punishing you?" Rodney looked incredulous, then thoughtful, and then suspicious as his eyes narrowed at the scientist in question. Ronon, having claimed his seat at the head of McKay's bed, had an unobstructed view of the men and women currently crowded around the foot of the bed. The one McKay was addressing now was suddenly looking less disgruntled and more nervous. Ronon leaned back further in his seat and crossed his arms, careful of his IV, and watched him.

"No, of course I don't." The scientist insisted immediately, and Rodney frowned even more at him.

"What did you do?"

"What did I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, other than my job," the man hurried to explain.

"Right, you just thought I was issuing a punishment detail for no reason. Which I wasn't, by the way: Somebody needs to monitor the plumbing and waste cycles for the next few days to make sure they're not damaged. Of course, now you're going to monitor those systems for the next week," McKay announced, and tried to unsuccessfully cross his arms over his chest. He let them flop back onto his lap in frustration when the cast got in the way.

"An entire week? That's being a bit overcautious isn't it?" The man crossed his own arms, perhaps unaware that he was mocking McKay's own inability to do so. It wasn't difficult for Ronon to decide he didn't care for the attitude, especially not after everything that had happened in the last two days. He sat a little taller in his seat and stared at him in warning, satisfied that the look was working when the scientists standing closest to his target took a step away.

"Not at all," McKay glowered back, but he sounded more tired than he had only moments before. "I would think by this point you'd have learned that it never hurts to be overly cautious. And it's only a week because I haven't figured out what you think I need to punish you for yet. Do you have anything more you want to add?"

"No, Doctor." The man glanced at Ronon and sort of shrank in on himself a bit. Ronon kept staring.

"Good. Dr. Flemming, you're going to be working with Lieutenant Mulwray's team to assess the structural damage to the city, focusing primarily on the impact site. Send your reports to Zelenka."

"Yes, sir."

"Dr. Sauder? What's the status of the city's sensors?" A blonde woman, who had been at the back of the crowd, carefully pushed her way to the front, armed with one of those flat computers all the scientists seemed to have glued to their arms. She moved to stand on the other side of Rodney's bed, already babbling on about frequencies and bio scans as she moved. Ronon frowned, he didn't want any of them coming too close, but he didn't stop her because McKay was already leaning forward and reaching his good arm out greedily for the computer.

Ronon doubted she would be getting it back.

"What exactly is going on here!" Beckett's loud brogue suddenly cut over the crowd, making several scientists jump. It looked like his meeting with Weir was finished. It only took a moment before the man pushed his way through the gathered crowd and he did not look impressed.

Beside Ronon Rodney froze, before affecting a look of pure innocence. Ronon turned and glared at the scientist. McKay had told him that Carson had approved of this impromptu meeting, and since none of the nursing staff had stepped forward to stop it he had assumed the man hadn't been lying.

"We're having a meeting," Rodney explained. Dr. Sauder pressed herself against the wall to avoid being in the direct line of sight between the men.

"In my infirmary? Ye know yer supposed to be resting!" The Doctor waved his arm around angrily, almost taking out one of the scientists eyes with a stray finger. The people at the back of the group began slinking away.

"I slept for nine hours, that's a new record for me. If I get any more sleep I'll be in a coma!" McKay tried to cross his arms again and let out a frustrated huff, and then grunted in pain as he shifted too much.

"Then we'd all be able te get some rest," Carson glared at McKay and McKay glared right back. "Everybody out! There are to be no science meetings in my infirmary, ever." He declared, but by then there were only a few scientists left, and the blonde woman gently squeezed by him on her way out, until it was only the three of them left.

"Was that really necessary?" McKay huffed, but he carefully leaned back in his bed and relaxed against the pillows. He stopped pretending he wasn't tired. Carson crossed his arms.

"Aye, it was." The man glared at him a moment, before sighing. "Ye know ye need to take it easy Rodney, yer body needs to recuperate after everything you've been through."

"Yes, yes. Believe me, I'm well aware of that. This city-"

"This city is fine at the moment, and your people know their duties. Let them do their job."

"Fine." Rodney huffed, but he didn't look particularly upset. He also didn't look like he wanted to get into another verbal sparring match with the physician. He had lost the last one, when Carson had reamed him out for not coming to the infirmary immediately after the city crashed. Rodney had argued that he'd been too busy, and Carson hadn't needed anymore patients at the time.

Which was true. But everyone knew you didn't argue with him over medical issues.

"Do you need another muscle relaxant?" Beckett watched Rodney closely, his concern evident.

"No, I'm fine. Go pay attention to the other invalids, I'll let you know if I need anything. Or better yet, go to bed. You look like a raccoon." Carson glared at him but didn't refute the comment. Instead his eyes wandered from McKay and he suddenly focused his attention on Ronon, and he went right back to looking unimpressed.

"And what exactly are you doing out of bed?"

"Moral support," he shrugged. He'd gotten used to the pain in his head the day before, but he still became dizzy when he stood at times and Dr. Beckett had yet to remove his IV. Ronon suspected the man kept him attached to the fluid bags so that he wouldn't just leave the infirmary. As if that could really stop him.

Beside him Rodney snorted.

"Right," Beckett looked between the two of them and shook his head. "Just don't tire yerselves out," he ordered and shuffled off to his office. Ronon watched Rodney watch after him with a frown.

"And just where, exactly, has Colonel Sheppard disappeared to?" Beckett's aggravated voice carried back to them from across the infirmary. Ronon grinned in response, and then stood slowly himself.

"Hey, where are you going?" Rodney piped up immediately and Ronon looked over at him. McKay's face instantly flared red in embarrassment and he averted his eyes. Ronon had been about to go back to his bed, to get some of that rest everyone kept prescribing, but he could sit with him for a while longer.

"Just stretching, McKay." He made a show of rolling his shoulders, and he pointedly didn't look at his friend, giving the man a moment to compose himself again.

Sixteen hours alone in the vastness of an ocean was a long time.

"Right, of course you were. Not that it matters really, you can go off and do whatever you like." Ronon gave him a look. "Right, okay. Good." McKay mumbled and shifted again. Ronon ignored his grimace of pain. He hadn't seen the bruises, but Sheppard said they were deep enough that they'd be painful for a while and he was probably lucky that there'd been no spinal or internal damage.

Ronon sat back down and kicked his feet up onto McKay's bed. Rodney looked at them a moment, frowning, but didn't comment. He must really want some company.

"How's your head?" he suddenly blurted out, looking sharply at Ronon, eyeing the white bandage that covered half his forehead.

"It's fine," he grunted.

"Well good. Though I hear you have a pretty thick skull, so there was never any real concern." He picked at the cast on his arm, the black plaster a stark contrast to the white sheets. Ronon couldn't really argue with the thick skull comment.

"Why'd you choose black?" he said instead, nodding at the cast Rodney was picking at. He glanced down at it, and then rolled his eyes.

"This way people can't sign it."

"Sign it? Like their name and rank?"

"Well, their name at least. It's a tradition back home, for friends to write something down, or draw pictures." Ah, a sign of support, to remind the ailing person that they are not alone. It was honourable. "Mind you it's usually just something that children do, but you've seen who we work with, and you can never be too cautious." He was babbling now, filling the silence. Sheppard had told him to expect this.

"I'd sign your cast."

"You would?" Rodney looked startled, his blue eyes wide, like a kid. Like he didn't quite believe Ronon would want to.

"Yeah."

"Oh." McKay looked at it and frowned.

"Wanna play cards?"

"Sure."

oooOOOooo

John had been sitting on his bed, fully clothed with legs swinging for about fifteen minutes now. He glared at the floor, thinking of all the ways he could be spending his time right now and how none of them involved this particular cot. But he wasn't going to complain. Not a chance, because that was exactly what the conniving Scottish doctor was waiting for, and John wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Especially seeing as how complaining the night before (after returning from the quick sojourn he'd made to his room that had, unfortunately, been noticed) had landed him in the infirmary all night instead of being released after dinner.

Now Carson was pointedly making him wait longer for his release, and had ordered him to remain on his cot instead of 'meandering around his infirmary distracting his nurses.' As if he could possibly be more distracting than McKay bellowing for a laptop every ten minutes.

"Ah, Colonel, sorry to keep you waiting," the devil himself appeared out of no where, peeling off a set of medical gloves and efficiently slingshoting them into the wastebasket by John's bed. Yeah right he was sorry.

"No problem, Doc. So, am I free to leave?" Carson eyed him critically and then checked his pupils before nodding his assent.

"So long as you take it easy the next few days. That was no love tap you took on the cheek and you still need to rest after everything," the man said not unkindly and John frowned, all of his irritation towards the man bleeding away. It was impossible to remain disgruntled against someone who truly cared.

"I'm not planning on doing any heavy lifting," he assured Carson and slid off the bed. "Thanks," he said sincerely. Carson stood a bit taller.

"Yer welcome. Now, off with you, I don't want to see you in here again any time soon." He declared and John looked pointedly over at Rodney's sequestered area. Carson sighed. "As a patient. And try to keep the arguing to a minimum," he turned and headed back to his office. John waited until the man disappeared inside before stepping to the back of his cot and pulling the chess set (the one he'd collected from his room the night before instead of remaining in the infirmary like a good little Colonel) from a hidden niche in the wall. He'd once caught Rodney stashing a laptop in there, keeping it close for when Carson refused to let him have one. The hiding spot had proven invaluable several times over.

John had planned on having a game with Rodney the night before, but the man had passed out not long after dinner.

John had woken up twice in the night from hearing Rodney whimper in his sleep. He was on the next cot, but when John had called out to him to try and wake him the man just turned away and continued dreaming. He hadn't calmed until John had placed a hand on his shoulder and told him he had him covered.

The nursing staff didn't bitch him out for getting out of bed.

Now, however, Rodney was wide awake and not too happy about it. John rounded the divider that now separated his friend from the rest of the room to see the man sitting up in his bed with a sour look on his face.

The moment he saw John the tension visibly eased in his shoulders. The seat Ronon had sat in the night before was still by the bed. John snagged it closer with his foot and sank into it, ignoring his aching body and the way Rodney's eyes lingered on his bruises as he sat down. He did his best to melt into the metal.

"What's up Rodney," he grinned and Rodney predictably scowled.

"I'm being held against my will, the food is terrible…" he paused and reconsidered his statement when John raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay, the foods fine, but they're also cruelly withholding the entertainment I need to survive this mind-numbing boredom."

"No computer, huh?"

"I even told them it was just for movies." Rodney looked at him so pitifully that John thought the man actually believed what he was saying. It was too bad the allure for work usually ended up getting the better of him.

"Because the last time you used that excuse and then designed and built a more efficient naqueda generator from your hospital bed via email went over real well with Carson."

"About as well as your Houdini act yesterday," McKay snorted.

"I'll have you know, that act actually had a purpose," John picked the chessboard up from the floor and waved it at McKay, the pieces inside rattled noisily. Rodney eyed it speculatively.

"You gave up early parole for a game of chess?" He asked and John shrugged.

"I want a rematch. What can I say, I'm a poor loser."

"Rematch?" Rodney looked confused now, trying to think back to the last time they'd played and John realized with a start that Rodney had completely forgotten about the verbal game he'd had with an imaginary John while lost at sea. He also recognized the moment Rodney remembered. His face kind of froze, a mixture of embarrassment and horror shining as brightly as a beacon before he tried to close off his emotions and hide away. He was too tired right now to be successful.

"You do realize that was an imaginary game," Rodney said, no longer meeting John's eyes. Great. This plan wasn't going as well as he'd originally hoped.

"Yes, and I suffered an imaginary loss. A loss is still a loss, as you were kind enough to point out."

"I don't think-" he started and John quickly cut him off.

"It still counts," he said softly. "Whether it was meant to or not."

"You can't hold anything I said against me. I wasn't in my right mind," Rodney declared, a hint of desperation edging into his voice and okay, John hadn't planned on having this conversation until after they were out of the infirmary. But, when in Rome…

"There's nothing to hold against you Rodney," he insisted and Rodney looked at him cautiously. It was like running around in freaking circles with this man at times. Just when you start breaking away you end up right back where you started. John had realized a few months back that he really couldn't take Rodney's distrustful responses to heart. It was difficult to outpace instinct.

"As far as I'm concerned you said what you needed to say, and now it's done with. If it ever comes up again in conversation, it'll be because you want it too." John looked his friend right in the eyes.

"What about the others?" Rodney hedged cautiously, but he sounded calmer now, the tinge of panic gone from his voice.

"They won't mention anything. They wouldn't have in the first place, but I may have backed the notion up with a few words of my own," John shrugged. Rodney sat in silence a moment, having a private conversation with himself, before he nodded decisively to himself.

"Right, well, I appreciate that Colonel." John glared at him at the use of his rank and Rodney quickly corrected himself by saying John's name. That was better.

"So," Rodney announced, a bit self-consciously. "Chess?"

"Right," John rolled the table that held the barren remains of Rodney's lunch between them and slid the tray under the bed. Rodney snorted at the action as he began setting up the pieces.

"You know," John hedged, and deliberately did not squirm in his seat. "If you ever need to talk about stuff, or people," _Dr. Lindstrom, for example,_ he thought, "then you know I'll listen, right?" Rodney's sharp blue eyes snapped up from the game before him, boring into John like a laser, and then they softened and he nodded in acknowledgment to the offer that, as far as John was concerned, had always been on the table.

"Thank you Dr. Phil," he snarked, but there was no heat behind the words. "While I'm at it perhaps you'd like to hear about the time my dog ran away." He frowned at the chess board and deliberately slid a pawn forward. John reached forward and moved his own piece immediately after. Rodney scowled at him.

"Nah, not unless you want to hear about the time my goldfish died."

"You had a pet goldfish?" Rodney perked up, looking interested. John shrugged.

"No."

"Why I even bother…" McKay muttered, frowning at John's next move.

"So if I asked you now about why you built an A-bomb when you were a kid?" John hedged, deliberately trying to sound casual although, truth be told, he'd been itching to find out since Rodney'd first brought it up. He kicked his feet onto Rodney's bed. Rodney didn't even notice.

"That conversation will take place on the pier, and only after a few beers." Rodney deliberated, but he met John's eyes a moment to let him know that he was serious, and that he wasn't upset about the question. John let out a silent breath of relief.

"Exactly how many is a few?"

"More than you have locked away in that fridge of yours right now. And none of that weak North American crap either. If it's not European I'm not putting out."

"Aw Rodney, you always want the expensive stuff," John smirked, relaxing a little more.

"I'm not cheap, John," Rodney snorted and slowly moved another piece, mind only half on their conversation now.

"Maybe, but you always have to get drunk first. You're too easy when you're drunk."

"Who wouldn't want to have a few when faced with spending the night with you? And I am not easy. I'll have you know I am a very complex and difficult man and it takes a lot to win me over."

"Don't I know it." Sheppard grinned widely, and then looked sharply over at the doorway when he heard a startled little...cough? Miko Kusanagi stood there, staring between the two of them with wide eyes and blushing cheeks and John raised his eyebrows at her in question.

"Miko? Is something wrong?" Rodney asked, concern evident and she shook her head quickly.

"No Dr. McKay. I just…" She looked between them again and then stepped forward, quickly pushing a laptop she had apparently been clutching into John's startled hands. "I thought you might want some entertainment, but I see that that has been taken care of. Heal quickly, Dr. McKay," she smiled sincerely, still blushing, and quickly left. John looked at the laptop and then at McKay. He went to hand it to him but Rodney shook his head and waved him off.

"Later," he was still looking in bewilderment after Miko. "You know now she probably thinks you spend your time getting me drunk so you can have your evil way with me." John laughed outright at that, because seriously, it was too funny. Women. Rodney frowned at him. "Shouldn't you be more concerned about that?" he wondered and John shook his head.

"People will believe what they choose. It doesn't mean anything, as long as those that count know what matters." He paused and took in Rodney's frown. "Why? You never struck me as the type of person who would be concerned about that sort of thing."

"I'm not," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Remind me to tell you about my uncles Bobby and Dave sometime."

"Sometime?"

"A time that involves beer on the pier," he amended and John snorted. All he had was time.

"Waxing poetic now, McKay?"

"If I were you I'd be less concerned about my skills at rhyming and more concerned about the crushing defeat I was about to experience." He looked pointedly back at the chess board and John wholeheartedly accepted the challenge.

"Prepare to be schooled, McKay."

"I practically invented that term, Colonel." The guy grinned and it was on.

oooOOOooo

The energy within the city surrounded her the moment she stepped from the jumper, a current of sorrow and purpose and pride that seemed to carry not only with the few people around her, but within the walls of the city itself. When Teyla had contacted Atlantis that morning to request a jumper to bring her home, she had not expected Elizabeth to answer. Nor had she expected to hear of the catastrophe that the city and her people had weathered in her absence.

To imagine a city of this size taking flight, with little warning, and soaring uncontrolled through the sky…the enormity of it was staggering. If anyone had told her such a thing was possible before she'd set foot on Atlantis herself, and perhaps even for a long time after she had joined the people of earth, she would have given credit for such a wondrous fable, for it could be nothing more.

Looking around the cavernous room she saw a group of people standing around two jumpers pressed tightly against one wall, one of the ships was upside down. Thankfully, the other ships all seemed to be seated back within their rightful resting places.

"Take care not to walk through the centre of the bay, Ma'am," the Sergeant who had flown her back from her people warned as he picked up a heavy bag of flour and tossed it over his shoulder. A white cloud of the fine powder puffed from a corner and spilled over his uniform's front. He paid it no attention. She was about to ask why when the bays ceiling doors began to slide shut above them.

The sunlight continued to bear down on them.

_Oh my_. She raised an eyebrow at the massive hole that had been cut into the door. It was almost large enough to fit a jumper itself. As soon as the doors had slid fully shut she saw people gathering around the hole on the roof, looking down upon them. One of them waved.

She looked at the Sergeant, who grinned a little.

"We're trying to fix it before McKay gets a chance to come down here."

"I see," she made sure to walk around the jumper bay's perimeter, the soldier at her side. She could see the humour of the situation, but she was not yet ready to feel it. So much had happened in her absence and she hadn't been around to help. She still only knew the very basics of the situation, and that not one of her teammates had remained unscathed. It had been a long four hours of waiting for her transport to pick her up, which only served to remind her of how far separated she was from them.

She bid thanks to the Sergeant who had brought her safely home and moved steadily to the infirmary, nodding at those she passed. She greatly wished to see her friends, but she understood that they were not in immediate danger and she should not rush.

Her steps were longer than usual regardless of that knowledge.

Upon finally entering the infirmary she immediately spotted Ronon, standing casually by the door, as though he'd been waiting for her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the bandage on his head, but he was dressed in his usual leathers and he was smiling in greeting. She had noticed, over the course of the last few months, that he was dropping his guard around their team more than she had ever thought possible. She was still growing used to his easy displays of happiness, and she was honoured to be one of the few he felt he could relax around. She returned his smile.

When she reached him he bowed down immediately and touched his forehead to hers. She was careful of his injury.

"I am glad you are all right," she said.

"We're all fine," he instantly assured her, only a moment before Rodney's incredulous voice carried through the entire infirmary.

"You can't do that!" he complained loudly. Ronon looked at her pointedly.

"See." And led her to the curtained off section at the far end of the infirmary, away from the two patients not resting in private rooms. She nodded at the one who was awake as she passed.

"Who taught you to play chess? Loki?"

"It's a legitimate move, McKay." Sheppard drawled, sounding more amused than anything which told Teyla that he was trying to wind McKay up. She relaxed even more as she rounded the curtain and lay her eyes upon both men to see that they were truly okay. Moderately speaking.

One half of John's face was a collection of purple, green and yellow, but he was slouched in his chair, a portable table sitting between himself and Rodney with a battered chess set sitting on top. Rodney sat up in his bed, blankets pooled in his lap as he glared at John indignantly. There was no real heat in the look, and he wasn't doing as good a job concealing his amusement as he probably thought he was. When he looked over at her the irritation melted away to a look of relief, which was quickly quashed back into irritation.

"Teyla, finally, maybe you could teach Colonel I-Make-My-Own-Rules how to actually play this game."

"I have never played this game before, Rodney," she said, moving to the bed side. She reached out and touched Rodney's leg a moment, squeezing gently to reassure herself that he was okay. His eyes widened slightly, and then softened, and then he waved his cast-covered arm at John.

"Neither has he apparently, so I highly doubt you could do any worse."

"I'll have you know that this is all a part of my highly cultivated strategy," John slouched even more and dropped his feet off of Rodney's bed, creating more space around them. Ronon appeared at her side with two more chairs and collapsed into the one nearest the door, throwing his arm over its back in a way that made his slouch even more extensive than John's. John frowned at him.

She felt her heart lighten.

"Yet strangely enough your strategy resembles nothing but an enthusiastic game of Whak-A-Mole. You do know we're playing chess, right?"

"Says the man with less pieces on the board."

"Only because you're cheating!"

"Prove it." John smirked, and casually reached out to fondle a white piece that looked like a horse.

"Besides," Rodney continued, ignoring his challenge. "It's not about how many pieces you have on the board, it's about keeping the important pieces in play."

"They've been at it for hours," Ronon spoke up, and she grinned with him as Rodney pointed his wrapped arm at the large man.

"You stay out of this." He ordered and Ronon snorted and addressed Teyla again.

"He's just mad because I beat him at cards last night."

From the bed Rodney rolled his eyes, but didn't contradict the statement. Instead he reached forward and moved another piece on the board. She saw John hide a frown out of the corner of her eye, but her attention was caught by something else. She stepped closer to the bed, and Rodney looked up at her, questioning.

"What are the markings on your cast?" She asked. She had seen several people with casts before on Atlantis, but they were normally a solid colour, unlike Rodney's. Rodney looked down at the cast, and then dramatically rolled his eyes.

"Apparently black casts don't keep a person safe from graffiti." She tilted her head, trying to get a better look, and he sighed. He held out the broken limb for inspection, and she finally saw that the white markings were in fact a collection of images and names.

John had written his last name in large block letters that covered over half of the cast on the top of Rodney's forearm. She fingered it and noticed John cross his arms smugly in his seat. Blatantly leaving his mark. She fondly wondered what kind of statement he was trying to make.

On the underside of Rodney's wrist was a sigil that matched the one on Ronon's neck. It's white lines looked almost exotic on the black plaster. Zelenka had scrawled his name messily beside it, barely legible. It looked like he had begun drawing something but the image was nothing more than a grayish smudge. Higher up on his underarm was the unmistakable image of a puddle jumper, and a whale appeared to be chasing it. It was quite artistic. She traced the ship gently in wonder.

"We had to hold him down for that one," John helpfully informed her, ignoring the scowl from Rodney.

"Sheppard insisted that a canvas that wasn't trying to bludgeon him to death was easier to work with," Ronon informed her and she couldn't help her laugh.

"Like you would think it was funny if you were the injured party being held down," Rodney complained meekly, but he didn't pull his arm away. She highly doubted he had put up too much of a struggle, or that they had come even close to hurting him. His fingers, looking as pale as snow against the cast, twitched in the palm of her hand. Elizabeth had signed her name elegantly along one side, and beside her name was a rather menacing looking syringe. She smile again and then looked at the large, unmarked spot running the length of his outer forearm.

It looked like it had been purposefully left untouched. She looked up to see Rodney contemplating the chess board again, a frown on his face. She wondered if she should ask about it.

"Here," John leaned forward, plucking something from his breast pocket and handing it to her. It was the 'white-out' pen she had seen him use on many occasions in his office. He grinned at her. "Go nuts."

"Please, as if Teyla wants to spend her time scribbling on my arm," Rodney began to pull his hand back. But she heard the uncertainty in his voice, giving her the option of not leaving her mark should she feel he was unworthy of it. She closed her fingers around his wrist, the hard material rough under her hands. He should know by now that he was more than worthy.

"I may use all the space that is left?" She asked and his eyes widened, suddenly looking nervous.

"What could you possibly need that much space for?" He squeaked and went to pull his arm back again. She held firm and he instantly stopped his struggle.

"If he gives you any trouble we'll hold him still," Ronon offered and Rodney glared at him, but he made no more attempts to pull away. She moved to the other side of his bed and sat gracefully on the edge.

"That will not be necessary," she announced and began to draw a large border around 'her' space. She knew of a poem that would describe his heroism but was artistically emotional enough to offend his 'manly' sensibilities. It was perfect. "I may need another of these white pens, however," she announced.

"No problem," John cheerfully responded and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"This is so unfair," Rodney grumbled, but left his arm where she wanted it. A moment later he sat forward slightly and then crowed out happily. "Checkmate."

"What?" John responded instantly. "No way! You cheated."

"It's a legitimate move Sheppard," Rodney parroted back his earlier words. Beside them Ronon snorted, and she smiled.

End.

That's it for now folks. Thank you very much for all your support! Your reviews were wonderfully enthusiastic, thoughtful and informative and had us dancing in happiness.

Cheers.


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